Crescent Moon On The Brow Of The Sky
by I wish I was Kermit
Summary: It is Inu Yasha's worst fear- he has killed the one he loved when he turned into a full youkai. Full of regret, he goes to his half brother with a silent plea. But will such a heartless lord help? Kagsess
1. The Hanyou's Bundle

Hiya peoples! This is the first chapter of my first fanfiction.

Disclaimer: I do not own Inu Yasha. If I did, I'd wash his mouth out with soap.

The Hanyou's Bundle

Evening was just beginning to fall, a dark stain spreading thickly across the grey, snow-dotted line of the distant horizon- draped with cobweb mist and swollen with pregnant hills. Snow fell softly, and barely a whisper of sound could pass through its thick silence, as bright and as frightening as the teeth of wolves. The ice-tipped boughs of the tall tree swung under the weight of Jaken, who shivered as he clutched his staff close, like a dear loved one, as he clung to the ice-cold arms of the tree with quaking hands. The Nintoujou, a staff topped with the heads of a young, glassy-eyed woman and a man with an age-creased face, was Jaken's prized possession- to own it and to know it, he supposed, was to know all.

With his large yellow eyes, he peered through the white branches to enable his eyes to reach where his master's could -would- not, and saw nothing but sticky white and a flurry of darting snowflakes. He sighed through his green-coloured bill, adjusted his black hat upon his head, and promptly fell from the tree with a shower of snow and a loud, gasping shriek. The Nintoujou screamed also as it fell, its double voice echoing frighteningly over the snow. When it hit the deep, soft blanket of winter underneath, it buried deep and was silenced by a muffled distance.

"Fool," hissed a white haired man, whose amber eyes betrayed as much emotion as the snow underneath him; he was beautiful, as much as any man could be, and stood tall and aloof as the night fell around him like a bowing admirer. Jaken, pulling himself out of the snow drift with much difficulty for one with such tiny legs, shivered at the coldness of his master's eyes; his own wide yellow eyes fell upon what was buckled to his master's waist. At his side were two swords, the Tenseiga and the Toukijin; one to give life, one to pull it quick away. Jaken quaked, feeling -in his mind- those two swords scoring a pathway across his green -and fragile- skin.

"Lord Sesshoumaru, Lord Sesshoumaru," the tiny youkai panted, filled with a fear, filled with a loyalty, and filled with a dread- enough to tear him into many parts. "I could not climb high enough..."

The silence of his master was enough to silence him as abruptly as he had began. As the night darkened, the cores of the eyes of the powerful inu youkai before him began to glow. The air was fresh around him, and a violent gasp of wind blew his long white hair around him, twirling in a dance with the breeze. The youkai lord closed his eyes, perhaps betraying a weariness he would never admit to; upon his pale forehead, plainly visible, was a dark crescent- shaped mark that further proved his noble lineage.

With his single arm he gently caressed the white pelt draped across his shoulder; the remains of a long-dead foe. His other arm was long shorn off by the Tetsusaiga, a sword he greatly desired to clench and wield. Instead, a _hanyou_ with tainted human blood could wield it, as was star-crossed and destined. The hanyou was the one who had torn off his limb. Moonlight from a large pregnant moon, haze-covered yet still bright, glowed blue upon the curves of his face. Snow fell upon his dark eyelashes and his stripe-marked cheeks, and melted into dying snowflakes' tears.

Jaken seemed to feel the ire of his master rise, for he quaked and shook with his worry. However, Sesshoumaru did nothing, only turned his gaze toward a double-jointed shadow that was now licking, with two heads and two tongues, the drips off a long clear icicle. On its green scale-covered back, a young human girl, shivering and blue from cold, hugged numbly the beast below her.

_"Jaken," _Sesshoumaru finally said, completely aware of his servant's vain and foolish attempts to find the Nintoujou, "why is Rin shivering like so?"

Jaken, with his beloved two-headed staff in hand, shook snow off of his clothes and replied with a superior scoff and without an once of worry. "Humans, especially young ones, are always cold."

Without a harsh word, Sesshoumaru walked over to where Ah Un stood, watching with its two heads and its four sets of eyes. He looked at Rin closely, felt her cheek, and found that she was as cold as the snow around her- though in places her skin was white and flushed. "What does she need?"

Jaken again scoffed while surveying the Nintoujou for injuries. A puff of vapour rose before his mouth, and he clicked it. "Warmth."

Sesshoumaru took the heavy weight of the pelt off his shoulder, and draped it across the poor girl's shivering frame. The small girl, barely conscious, murmured her childish thanks as the lord took her in his arms, sitting back upon the thick snowdrift, concealed somewhat by drooping branches. "Jaken," he murmured, his eyes cold, "build a fire."

The youkai lord's servant seemed to come to himself; he broke branches, shook them free of snow and piled them awkwardly in the center of the tiny shaded clearing. With a thrust from Jaken the Nintoujou spurted a screaming fire from one of its gaping mouths, and spat it upon the makeshift kindling, stroking a fire in its heart. The fire was sad, and dim, and it cast only a small circle of light- yet it was warm, and that was what Rin needed. Sesshoumaru watched as the girl began to stir and open her big bright eyes.

"Ah Un," said he, his eyes reflecting the fire twice, in them somehow a tiny red glow, "take Rin. This Sesshoumaru shall see what Jaken could not."

Jaken cowered, seeming ashamed and hugging his staff close, as Ah Un waited patiently while Rin was placed on his back once more, draped in the white pelt. Sesshoumaru looked neither to the left, nor right; one purpose on his mind, he leapt up into the boughs of the tree only leaving a shower of snow to prove he had been there.

There, in the arms of the ice-mantled vegetation, he saw, in the distance, a widening plume of dark choking smoke. The smell of it, a smell he had caught earlier, stung him quickly and hard; he squinted his eyes against the sudden heat and rage of the smoke against his senses. His placed his one hand against the frosted trunk of the tree, watching patiently as white-capped trees plummeted and fell where the smoke rose highest. And the sweet, thick, overpowering smell of a mortal's blood reached him, so strong nothing could dim it.

Another smell reached his nose, more unwelcome than the last. "The _hanyou_," he breathed, rage making his voice hiss against his teeth. The stink of sweaty human and youkai blended; a stink thick and wet upon the air. His nails dug deep into the frozen bark beside him, the only betrayer of what he felt.

The moon glowed upon him, turning every bit of him more silver than it had been, turning the world a bright white. He saw the hanyou, creeping at first, his kimono black from the light overhead- he staggered, leaving a trail of his own impure blood behind him in the snow. Struggling with a long covered shape, it was all he could do to keep his bare feet from sinking into the deep drifts underneath him. Sesshoumaru smelt tears among the blood and was utterly disgusted.

A cry from Jaken told him the impure hybrid had reached the tiny clearing where a fire still hopefully burned. The powerful youkai descended into the shadows, his eyes glowing from the fire, and watched his dim-witted half-brother put down the large bundle close to the heat of the flame. The bundle stank of death; so much Sesshoumaru narrowed his eyes into slits. A silence passed.

"I know you are there, Sesshoumaru. The thing in this bundle is very... precious to me. Take care of it." The hanyou gasped as a spray of blood fell from his lips, trickling towards his ribs. Blood coated the hanyou's dirty hands, and he stared at them as if disbelieving. His mouth formed words, but said nothing.

Sesshoumaru's voice was as vehement, as cold and as indifferent as the ice and snow around him. "What is the meaning of this, _hanyou?"_ His hand dropped slowly to his side, touching but not grabbing the Toukijin from its sheath.

Inu Yasha's eyes flowed dimly towards where Sesshoumaru stood, half in the light of the fire and half out, so parts of him were cloaked in shadow. There they were, staring at each other, saying nothing. The hanyou stood, by the power of the last of his strength, turned, and fled crookedly. Sesshoumaru's hand dropped from Toukijin, slowly, eyes upon the motionless bundle before him. He approached it, and lifted the cloth at what appeared to be the top. There: cold, dead, covered by blood that was black against the blue-tinted skin, was Inu Yasha's wench.


	2. Kagome's Death

Hello again, and sorry for the unexpected delay! Here's another chapter. The last one I wrote in a day. Till 4 in the morning. Yawn! I woke up, yesterday, at 2 in the afternoon. I can stay up late, but not if I've been sick. Damn Canadian winters! LOL. It hasn't even snowed yet, surprisingly. Its global warming, I guess. Oh, yes: this chapter is going to be about HOW poor ol' Kagome died. Oh and there are two new characters. I made up their names. I know -maru is a common male suffix, and i added that to their names. I have no idea what the prefixes mean. Hitsumaru, Tsusimaru. I hope they don't mean anything dirty! LOL. I'm sure it is nothing in any language. I'm just a poor old Canadian! The only other language I know is French. Oh, I only know about 10 words in Japanese and 10 words in Spanish. And 7 words in German. Wunderbar, kinder eist mutter! Foboten! (Wonderful, child is mother! Forbidden!) Yeah. Correct me if I'm wrong.

I'll shut up now. Now, kiddies, there's a swear word in this chapter (uttered by Inu Yasha, who else) so if you are offended, please tell me!

Oh, Yay! Reviews! I love you all! It makes me so happy!

keosis-chan: Sorry for the cliffie, but I love them! Keep reading!

Silver Fox Tail: Don't worry, you don't have to wait long!

chin5cai: I know! I hated doing that to "Inu Yasha's wench"! But it's part of the plot. Ooh, another Kag/sessy lover? Yay!

Archangel Rhapsody: I will, and thanks!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Inu Yasha. If I did, I'd make Kagome fight for once. Jeesh.

Kagome: HEY!

Kermit: BACK IN THE PILE! Ahem... Enjoy everybuddies!

Kagome's Death

A cold miko clutched the nylon winter jacket closer to her, twirling in her hands the red plastic toy, unaware that she was going to die at the hands of the person she loved. She sighed, burying her chin in the downy, soft red hair of her adopted Kitsune- whom, after playing with the tiny plastic windmill she had brought for him, had fallen asleep. Shippou's tiny, soft, childish snores filled her hearing as his breath blew clouds, and Kagome smiled. She pulled the hat closer over her ears with wool mitten-clad hands, shivering. The red gloves were her mother's, and besides being wet, they smelt like her perfume. Kagome sighed and dropped them from her face, feeling a snaking homesickness squirm in her stomach. Kirara, the tiny neko youkai, nuzzled her woolly fingers.

Inu Yasha sat, his red-clad arms folded upon his knees, his face buried there, his amber eyes watching her from over them. His silver-coloured hair fell like rain, or snow, about his cheeks. Their eyes met, for the briefest of moments, yet he said nothing, nor shifted his eyes. He seemed angry, but Kagome knew better- he was thinking, perhaps, of Kikyou; thinking, perhaps, of Naraku.

Sango, the youkai taijiya, also watched her. She shrugged out of and adjusted her weapon, the Hiraikotsu, upon her back. She wore the thick blue gloves Kagome had brought upon her hands, ones that Kagome knew to be very warm. The winter around them whined as Sango blew her breath upon the gloves, rubbing them together. For a moment, Inu Yasha's ears twitched at he sound, but he did not move his eyes. Sango seemed patient, and when she caught Kagome's desperate eyes, she lifted -thankfully- the weight of her gaze of the miko's frame. Her brown hair fell into her eyes, and she brushed the fringe away. Draped upon her was Kagome's Ji-chan's old brown coat, one that was heavy and riddled with holes.

Beside her, the houshi contemplated other heavenly planes, or perhaps the wearer of the old brown coat beside him. His long, golden, many-ringed staff, the Shakujou, stood against a robed shoulder. Upon his head was a wool hat Kagome had brought for him; that was the only thing he had accepted. He did not watch her; he meditated, his eyes closed, the brows over them tranquil. He seemed asleep.

Suddenly she gasped, and felt her throat for what few shards of the Shikon No Tama they had- and sighed a cloudy relief while they pulsed happily beneath her woolly fingers. Shippou yawned at being so disturbed, and opened his eyes. "Momma?" He yawned. Kagome put the red plastic windmill in the snow, and hushed Shippou, who fell silent abruptly, but not for long. "Kagome?" He whined, clutching the slippery fabric of her jacket, smelling something different in the winter air.

"Quiet, Shippou, quiet." The girl murmured, standing and brushing off the snow from her backside with the tips of her gloved fingers. Something, a bright pink light, glowed in her, and pulled her towards a distant spot, where another bright sliver of herself glowed. A gasp rocketed forth from her mouth, silenced by the cry of the distant youkai that harboured a Shikon Shard. Shippou squirmed in her arms as Kirara leapt forth from them, landing lightly upon the snow, leaving barely a mark upon its virgin surface.

Inu Yasha growled, the setting sun setting his silver hair ablaze- a mix of blue, pink, and white. He blew a cloud of exasperation as he watched the miko rise to snowy feet. As he smelled the miko change, he saw a bright glow form in her eyes. He lifted his head out of his arms, and fingered the worn hilt of the bright Tetsusaiga, his long nails scratching against its pommel. Then Kagome gasped. "I- I sense a Shikon Shard!"

Inu Yasha, her companion and the arrogant man she loved, scoffed and leapt onto his feet. Sango and Miroku did the same, suddenly alert. In the half-youkai's amber eyes there was a glimmer of triumph, of adventure, and of adrenaline; Kagome found herself caught up in it yet again. There was a fear in her, though; she watched as Inu Yasha clenched the hilt of the Tetsusaiga, pull it a little way out of the gullet of the sheath. "It's about time!" He growled, and Kagome's ire rose at his rudeness, but she said nothing. She gathered her bow in her arms, draped her quiver of arrows upon her back, and put a grim determination on the features of her face. Clinging to her slippery jacket, Shippou's young eyes grew large and scared.

In an eruption of fire, Kirara turned into her true self: a large, powerful neko youkai, with red eyes and long curving teeth. Sango leapt upon her broad back, somehow looking strange with the winter clothes she wore. Miroku, out of his meditative state, leapt up behind her, his eyes wide and alert, the Shakujou jangling with the movement. The beads around his hand that contained his gaping curse glinted echoes of the sunset. Shippou climbed up to Kagome's shoulder, digging in tiny Kitsune claws.

"Come _on, _Kagome," said Inu Yasha irritably, and Kagome leapt onto his back, throwing slippery nylon arms around his shoulders and stopped at his throat, where she felt round glassy beads. His arms held her legs, and his claws bit into the fabric of her jeans and brushed against her skin. There was a moment where Kagome's warrior friends stopped for a cloudy breath, looking at each other as if saying goodbye. Then Kagome felt Inu Yasha's muscles tense, and she squeezed her eyes shut as he leapt

into the air. Kagome knew by Kirara's predatory roar that she as well had begun her fiery ascent.

A feeling, very much like being on a roller coaster, churned in Kagome's belly as Inu Yasha leapt up, soaring in a great arch, and touched the snowy earth again with his bare toes. In Kagome's human ears, the wind roared, though it was somewhat muffled by the hat she wore. In her hands, forgotten, was tightly clenched the plastic windmill.

_"WHERE, KAGOME?"_Inu Yasha cried, leaping from tree to icy tree, his silvery hair flying into her face. She looked inside herself, and found the pooling source- a pink thread of a feeling, pulling her towards some other place. With her arm stretching like a branch, she pointed northward. "There!" She yelled, her voice quavering, blowing a cloud across her vision.

They found themselves in a clearing of sorts, flanked by trees like silent soldiers. Inu Yasha dropped Kagome's legs, so that she fell down on her behind in the ice, and skidded; she was too frightened to care. Inu Yasha clapped a hand over his nose, as Shippou whimpered forlornly and clutched Kagome all the harder. She stood, slipped, and said in a voice filled with tears, "Shippou, go to Kirara. I don't want you to get hurt." Shippou, however reluctantly, obeyed.

Corpses lay everywhere in tangled hugs, shells, empty husks. Kagome's heart thumped as Miroku, saying a quick prayer, wiped away an unwanted tear. Sango narrowed her eyes, clutching the strap of her Hiraikotsu with a shaking hand. "What happened? How can this possibly be?"

To which Inu Yasha replied, from behind his hand, without a loss of his vehemence, "this entire place reeks of Naraku." Sango nodded, memories flooding her anguish-hardened eyes. Suddenly, then, Inu Yasha's ears twitched.

Arms closed around Kagome, gently, coolly. A chest pressed against her back, and Kagome could feel the rumble of a silent laugh in it. Before a scream could reach her mouth, she felt cold fingers touch her throat, where her pulse was.

It was Miroku who saw first, a split second before the rest. He looked towards her, and his entire body clenched. He raised the Shakujou in front of him, praying to the Gods above, and cried out her name like it was a talisman. "KAGOME!"

Inu Yasha ripped the Tetsusaiga from its sheath, and the blade shone brightly as it changed to tis true from- a fang capable of killing one hundred youkai at once. He growled. **"KAGOME! LET HER GO, YOU FUCKING BASTARD!"**

"_Kagome, is it..." _said the voice of the demon behind her, _"such a pretty name for a pretty girl." _Kagome struggled in the grip of the demon, struggled against the hot sticky breath that brushed against the back of her neck. What stopped her struggles abruptly was the cold fingers pressing harder, against her throat, making the world swim. _"Call for him, Kagome. Call for him."_

"No!" she cried, tears bubbling at the corners of her eyes.The fingers pressed all the harder against her throat. "I will never!" A growl betrayed the youkai's feelings of rage, and his hand began to draw blood. The blood trickled down the hollow of her collarbone._"Call for him,Kagome," _the youkai hissed, _"or I will rip out your throat." _

"KAGOME! OKA," wailed a tired Shippou, cupping in his hands his fiery Kitsune Bi. It shot towards Kagome, yet the youkai stepped to the side, pulling Kagome with him. Kagome's head jerked around, dizzy at the speed of him.

Sango's eyes narrowed with her fear and rage as she threw her weapon after the fading glow of Shippou's Kitsune Bi."HIRAIKOTSU," she cried, her voice furious and rising as high as a hopeful trumpet. Kirara jostled impatiently underneath her.

The terrible youkai leapt into the air, riding the air as if it could be ridden. His arm tightened around Kagome's waist, squeezing all the air from her, pushing her stomach against her ribs. The Hiraikotsu curved back into Sango's nimble, expert hands.

Miroku loosened the beads around his hand, almost as if he was going to loose his curse upon them all, yet...

"NO! STOP! DON'T ATTACK HIM! YOU'LL HURT KAGOME," cried a terrified Shippou, regretful of his Kitsune Bi that had caused them all to attack the youkai that now hugged Kagome so close. The youkai landed nimbly upon an ice-covered tree, curling his toes upon the branch and dangling Kagome high over the hard floor below.

At this the youkai laughed deep in his throat, knowing he had an advantage over them. Inu Yasha screamed in frustration and rage, wishing to attack but fearing to give Kagome harm.

"Hitsumaru," said the youkai behind her, so quietly and so suddenly Kagome was not sure she had heard. "Take this foolish girl."

"Hai, Tsusimaru," someone whispered in a voice so similar to the last Kagome at first thought the youkai was talking to himself. Then, she was falling, if not for a moment, and new hands clutched at her slippery clothes and neck.

The youkai that had cut her on her throat leapt out, and Kagome was stunned at how beautiful he was: hair the colour of raven wings shorn just to his chin, a face smooth and young, eyes the colour of fire. The kimono he wore was dark and seemed expensive. With a soft, unfriendly and faint smirk at her, he shot, like a dark shadow, towards where her warrior friends were. Kagome felt dread, and found herself being gently pulled into the deep shadows of the woods. The last thing she saw of her friends before a tall tree broke her view was a struggling Miroku, a flying Hiraikotsu, and a Tetsusaiga being thrown from Inu Yasha's grip. For a moment, Inu Yasha stopped, stunned, as the demon thrust his hand through his belly.

"INU YASHA!" She cried, seeing him change, and then the scene was gone, blocked out by trees and distance. She struggled, not caring if she fell to her death, but the new youkai hugged her close, preventing her fall. He pressed his hand hard over her mouth, and she caught the view of a white sleeve from the corner of her eye.She bucked and kicked, bit hard- but the youkai only laughed.

"Miko," the youkai giggled, "fight me and meet a death!"

Kagome's soft brown eyes widened as she felt the presence of a Shikon shard embedded somewhere in her captor. She soothed her mind, wrapping it around the shard, and began to purify it.

The youkai squirmed uncomfortably, hissing, and stopped for breath upon a thick branch that was heavy with snow. "Stop it!" He cried, shaking her roughly. "Stop it!" His hand tore into the flesh of her throat, not going deep enough to kill, but stunning her enough she stopped her efforts.

To her surprise, the youkai uttered a curse, and redoubled- heading back to whence they came. Again her friends came into her view, but this time, the scene was different- Inu Yasha, a pure youkai now, was attempting to kill the dark youkai, who seemed injured and bled upon the snow. The glow of the sunset began to dim as the light grew stale, and the youkai that held Kagome yelled a wordless cry.

Kagome found herself in the snow, suddenly weary and no longer afraid, and saw Sango hiding in the snowy, dead underbrush. "Kagome!" She whispered, beckoning for her to come and hide. From somewhere in the darkness beside the youkai taijiya, there came the shaking voice of the houshi. "Kagome, you must hide! Inu Yasha will kill everything that is in his sights. He is about to die. He isn't in his right mind!"

Kagome shook her head, tying to stand, and found her bow a few steps from her. Beside it, her arrows were spilled, like twigs. She attempted to go over to them, but stumbled, weak. Lying on the cold snow and covered with frostbite, she reached vainly for her bow, and caught it in her hand. She pulled it towards her, weary, and hugged it to her chest. Blood fell in drops upon the snow. Her own?

"Kagome, oka, no!" cried the Kitsune, but she ignored her adoptive child. She set her face in a grim determination as the two youkai fought the one she loved, and grabbed an arrow, crying out at the pain. She set it in her bow, drew, and shot it at the youkai. A pink glow, bright as the sun, leapt towards the assailants of her love. A wordless cry burst forth from her mouth, the cry of a weary miko, as the arrow missed and hit a tree, making it burst in a column of heavy, cloying smoke, toppling those around it. The youkai turned, surprised, before they disappeared into the column of smoke and were gone.

Youkai Inu Yasha approached Kagome slowly, his breath ragged, his eyes red and wild. He seemed full of anger and hatred as he stumbled towards her, his bloody claws outstretched. Kagome rose to her feet, her bow dropping from her lax hand and into the snow. She threw her arms around him, feeling him tense and begin to growl. Pain erupted in her as his claws dug into her heart. "I love you, Inu Yasha." She whispered, falling to her knees before him, her blood spilling in a red circle around her. She smiled, choked, and the world faded all away to a deep and unending black.


	3. Dead

DON'T GET MAD, I WILL ONLY UPDATE ON WEEKENDS! I DO HAVE SOME GRADE TEN TO DO! Ahem. Now that I've got your attention...

Helloos, people! Back with another chapter! YAY!

We're back with Sesshoumaru. Sessy lovers, rejoice! does a little dance

Oh, I'm sorry to those that reviewed for chapter 1 the first day it was posted. When I was uploading the second chapter I didn't read all the "fine print" and it turns out I deleted your wonderful reviews. I reposted my story because I freaked, and they all went, as was expected. sniff I am so stupid and sad. I'm stupid sad. In the last chapter, I gave you recognition for your reviews, and when it shows up on the site you will be thanked. Aw, I'm all teary-eyed!

This story came from a strong inspiration received a week ago. It was so strong I couldn't stop thinking about it. I COULDN'T SLEEP! And when I did sleep, I had Inu Yasha dreams! GAH! In them, Sessy had a pony tail and wore a while business suit... yeah. I have creative dreams. Once I had a dream that we all worshipped a giant blue play-dough wave with a face that ate people- it was also a radio station that played THE HOTTEST HITS ALL DAY EVERY DAY! Ignore me. I'm strange.

Oh, yay! Reviews! I love you all!

Kagamoesiun: Maybe.. hehehe. Thanks for reviewing! Here's a fortune cookie!

VanaelAndVanwaelMordae: Don't worry! I will post! I'm evil, but not THAT evil. Here's your fortune cookie! Yeah, I'm weird. I listen to German music! (It's good! You should listen to Rammstein. sings We are all living in Amerika! Amerika, ist wunderbar!)

KawaiiDemons: I know, so sad... cries but she dies. Aws wells! We have to go on! Thanx for reviewing! Here's a fortune cookie!!! Yeah. Ignore me. Oh, I'm on your favorite author list! Oh, I'm happy! Happy, happy! You are so good to me!

lady-sesshoumaru41: THANK YOU OH SO MUCH! I LOVE YA! KISSES! He he he. Ignore me. Turns out I didn't do anything wrong, I just didn't read all the 'fine print' and freaked when it didn't turn up on the site right away. Thankyou for helping and for the compliments! I do get practice! I write my own novel and plan to get it published. I don't send it 'out there in the wide blue' cause that's just a bad idea. Here's your special fortune cookie!!! With a face! ()

Guardian-of-the-night: I know, I'm the evil overlord of cliffies! I can't wait to see what happens next too! It is just building itself as it goes along! It's taking over! Its alive! Save me!ahemyes. I'm strange, eh? (whoops! Canadian lingo. GET. BACK. IN. THERE! Hah. That's better.)

Oh, your fortune cookie! Arigatou!

Stacerue: Thanks! I'm glad you enjoy it! Now, where did I put my fortune cookies... Oh, here they are! ONE FOR YOU!!

HERE WE GO! BUCKLE YER SEAT BELTS! KEEP ALL ARMS INSIDE THE CONTRAPTION AND... HEY, YOU! YES YOU! I SAID KEEP ALL YOUR ARMS INSIDE THE CONTRAPTION! YEESH! mutters some people...

Anyhoo, back to the story.

DISCLAIMER! (sorry I feel like yelling):_ i do not own Inu Yasha._ If I did, I'd teach Miroku to keep his little lecherous hands to himself.

Miroku: WHAT!? WATCH WHAT YOU'RE SAYING!

Kermit: BACK IN THE PILE!!!!!.... enjoy, and remember to ignore me.

Dead...

_"The human miko."_

A flurry of snow whipped around him as he stood contemplating the dead miko before him, cold, motionless, and singing of death.The fire flickered behind him, like something alive, and threw a light across the curves of her human face- she seemed asleep, not dead, not empty. Yet, there she lay, a hollow lifeless husk, wrapped in her strange bloody clothes and tears. She stank of emptiness.

As he stared at this human _shell_ he contemplated chasing after its rescuer, running him through with his Toukijin, and ending his groveling piece of a life. Yet, something stayed his hand, if only for a moment. The moon sailed high upon the sky, causing the icy canopy to glow a new silver, and he smelled a change in the air: a disappearance of the stink of the hanyou's blood, the disappearance of the smoke, until of the stink of_ her _ death remained. The death and night smells lingered with the smell of the snow, and turned both night and death to ice.

This same lifeless shell was the one who had pulled the Tetsusaiga from its stone confines, when a full youkai -himself- and a hanyou -his half-brother- was unable to move it from the place. He had been about to tear out his brother's throat with his green, venomous claws- and then there came her soft exclamation of surprise.

She, there, with the Tetsusaiga clenched in her hands. He had approached her, and had demanded what she was- and then had tried to kill her. It had not worked, due to the protection that the Tetsusaiga had given her. She had proved to be nothing. She was a mere _human._

"Lord...lord _Sesshoumaru?"_ came the quavering voice of his servant, Jaken, as the tiny youkai surveyed the corpse, Nintoujou raised and clenched firmly in hand. "What are we to do?"

Sesshoumaru's eyes closed, and then opened, swiftly turning towards Rin, a catch in his throat. The moon was a silver eye in the face of the sky, staring down and watching them all as the child's laboring breathing rose...and stopped completely, cut off by her sudden death. It seemed as if the inu youkai's breath and heart stopped as well, for the fear running through him. He forced the fear to disappear, slowly drawing out the Tenseiga as his steps were directed to her side. With his long-nailed hand, he felt her skin. There lingered the dying heat and sweat of a fever, and underneath that the coolness of death. He gathered up her form, and as her head lolled back and her dead arms dropped past his embrace, one tear fell unwanted and crystal past his eye.

He brought the Tenseiga down across her, killing all those who were there pulling out the strings of her soul- cut their throats in a blinding flash of magic and steel. Her soft big eyes opened, afraid, and then she put her little arms around his neck in thanks. Whatever tears that had been standing in his eyes disappeared, and he let the little girl hold him as his eyes traveled past her to the hanyou's wrapped wench, seeing one dead blue hand poking out upon the frozen earth.

He had decided. He would leave the corpse behind, let it get eaten by every kind of hungry creature. She did not matter to him. She was _nothing, _nothing but Inu Yasha's wench. He nearly smiled at the thought that this dead miko was somehow precious to his half-brother- the hanyou had followed in father's footsteps as easily as if they were his own.

Rin's hands clenched on his collar, her eyes drifting closed. The moonlight played across her childish face. "Wake, Rin," said Sesshoumaru softly, "we are going to leave." Her eyes opened excitedly, meeting his cool composure with eagerness. But then her gaze followed his, and she stifled back a tiny scream, her voice filled with the airs of a nightmare.

**"Sesshoumaru-sama!!! There is a dead lady! Sesshoumaru-sama! Do you see?" **

"Lord Sesshoumaru sees the** _human._** He is not blind," shrieked Jaken squeakily, his voice barely disguising his hatred for the girl. The Nintoujou was clenched all the harder in his hands, the wooden humanoid heads grinning like dolls. The faint yet still audible growl that rumbled in his master was what silenced him and quelled his rage. He stood, dropping Rin to her feet, and lifted the white pelt off of the slumbering Ah Un, who opened four eyes sleepily before rising to its clawed feet. Rin ran up to Ah Un, caressed it briefly before scaling its slippery hide to the dip in its back. Her tiny bare heels -white and red with frostbite- gently nudged its sides. Ah Un obediently swung into its gentle, graceful walk.

The fire was doused, stopped out by a cursing, singed Jaken. Sesshoumaru looked at the dead miko one last time before walking as graceful as a shadow into the forest, Ah Un, Rin, and a burned Jaken following closely behind.

Sesshoumaru did not know how long he walked- he never tired, never slept. Though, Rin shivered, even after the white pelt was again draped across her shoulders. Upon Ah Un, she was barely conscious, barely spoke. She was summer, and loved warmth- winter was her enemy.

Rin complained, a little later, of hunger- which forced them to stop while Sesshoumaru hunted and Jaken awkwardly kindled a flame. The youkai lord opened his senses, taking in the icy winter world around him- there, tiny mouse tracks in the snow; here, the musky scent of a fox. And beside him, the new tracks of a fleeing rabbit. The boughs of the trees rocked above him sleepily as snow drifted down, slow and dancing. The snow speckled his face, and he barely felt their water as he caught himself in the hunt. The night was dark, but it was lightening with dawn.

He cornered the tiny animal a little way from their makeshift campsite, and broke its neck so to not poison it with the poison in his hand. Briefly, blood fell sanguine upon the deep sharp cushion of snow- he watched it, exquisite boredom spreading across his features like a stain. And then, a new scent past the fresh blood caught his nose, one that he was all too familiar with. He followed the scent, prey trapped in his lax hand. Upon seeing the sight before him, the prey dropped cold into the snow.

_The hanyou._

_Inu Yasha._

Dead, and the beautiful sword clenched firmly in his dead pale hands. Snow and blood was speckled across his red kimono, and his eyes were open wide and watching, full of emptiness. His dead, cold cheeks were streaked with dry and ancient tears; his silver hair, tinted pink with blood, was drifting about his ears with breif bouts of wind. In a dark wide cricle, his blood polluted the virgin snow- proof of a slow and painful death. Sesshoumaru looked on at him with no interest; the hanyou had not been strong enough to withstand the wounds inflicted upon him. It was to be expected. What attracted his sun-coloured gaze was the blessed Sword, held in his hated brother's hands. The Tetsusaiga pulsed energy, almost in anger, singing his reaching hand. He nodded, regarding his dead brother with loathing and jealousy as he picked his prey from the snow, and left him there to rot and wither and be forgotten.

When he had returned to Rin and had thrown the prey at Jaken to cook, he sat down in the snow in silent contemplation. His thoughts were filled with the sword, again, like it had been filled for years. Rin relentless chattering to Ah Un was just a blur to him; the fire just a faint bright smudge. In his eyes, only the Tetsusaiga gleamed, bright with power. There, it had been in his mind like a star. It annoyed him, and peaked his ire to no end. Jaken gave him a wide and noticable berth.

He was filled with the greed, and frustration- so close to his prize, and unable to touch it! Rin... "Rin," he said softly, to which the girl's chatter stopped, and the chewing of her meal stopped, focused solely on her parent. "Will you come with me?"

When Rin rose, so did Ah Un and Jaken- the last with a slivering annoyance across his green features- and followed him to where the hanyou lay, his stink muffled by the falling snow. Rin cried out, a groan in her throat, and hid behind him. The stink of her fear nearly blocked out the smell of the hanyou's death. Jaken muttered something insensible, a laugh of triumph in his throat at seeing the Tetsusaiga

"Rin?" He asked softly, "do you see that sword of his? Get it." Rin moved obediently, however hesitantly, towards where the sword was clenched in Inu Yasha's hands. Her eyes flashed over him once-there was some sympathy in her gaze, something that had once fallen upon him- and she came closer. A tears drifted down her cheek before she let her tiny palms fluttered towards it, making their shivering contact.

**"AHHHHHHH!"**she let out a gasping, cloying scream, one that stung his ears- one that was sticky with pain. He reached out to her as she ran back to him, touching his clothes and staining the white red with blood. Sesshoumaru was filled with thick confusion- she was _human-_ only humans could touch it. Then Sesshoumaru lost his patience- simply, as if it was something that could be so misplaced.

He approached the dead body of the hanyou, seeing something in his dead face that appeared smug- soemthigjn he was infamous for in his life. He approached the corpse, with all the intention of ripping his dead heavy body to shreds- killing him and reviving him just to slaughter him again. The lord's eyes flashed, once, with hatred; that Inu Yasha would suffer far more than any other. His claws on his hand dripped with anticipation, throwing the snow around them into a green glow. Behind him, Rin stood and clutched her hands against themselves, watching on in fear, and whimpering with pain.

Something strange stopped him, made him drop his venomous hand to his side, letting the poison drip onto the surface of the snow. Upon it, his poison burned and sizzled, throwing vapour into the air. Before him, his own breath came out thick and agitated, thowing their mist over the snow and over Inu Yasha. His feet stopped; the wind tossed his long hair about him in a twirl as his amber eyes narrowed- and changed.

_"You despicable hanyou," _he hissed, filled with anger, filled with unsatisfied bloodlust. Rin let out a cry behind him as his eyes filled with red. Jaken cowered, hugging the Nintoujou close to him, which began to laugh.

For there, close to the dead smiling hanyou was written in the snow:

**_ONLY KAGOME CAN_**


	4. A First And Gasping Breath

Helooah! I'm back! I'd like to send a big thanks to all those who have stuck with this story, and I'd like to tell you I'm very very sorry for this unexpected delay! You know, I do have other stuff to do. I am so tired!

YAY, REVIEWS! LOVE TO EVERYONE WHO REVIEWED! OH, IF YOU READ THIS STORY AND DON'T REVIEW, PLEASE REVIEW! IT MAKES MY DAY AND ITS JUST PLAIN COMMON COURTESY. Sorry, I wrote that all in capitals because my computer was on caps-lock and I didn't realize it. You know what I just realized? A LOT of fan fiction authors are of the female gender, including me. Any guys out there? Hello?

Sorry, this chapter will be very short.

keosis-chan: Thank you so much! Huggles! You are the greatest! Thanks for reviewing (again! )

love for this heaven: Thanks! Such high praise! So happy! So hyper! Pokes you repeatedly! he he he he he!

ObsessedWitInu: Yeah, I'm sorry my story is sad... Don't worry some people are going to be 'recalled to life'. If anyone has read A Tale of Two Cities, Sessy will be like Jerry Cruncher- the self-named "resurrection man". Sorry. That book is stuck in my head. Anyhoo! Thanks for reviewing! ALL OF MY LOVE!

Rainbow Neko Pheonix Hime: Don't worry, I am very VERY random. I do like vampires, and if you give me the address of the site I'll check it out!

Kagamoesiun: Thanks for reviewing (again!) and you will just have to see...

Soul: Thanks for reviewing! Yep, Inu Yasha is for once using his brain... he has to have one in there... somewhere... Huggles!

GET READY FOR THE RIDE OF YOUR LIVES! HOLD ON TO ANYTHING YOUR HANDS CAN REACH... NO! NOT ME!

Disclaimer: **I DO NOT OWN INU YASHA. **If I did, I would give Sesshoumaru an attitude adjustment.

Sesshoumaru: I will not lower myself for your amusment, wretched human _girl._

Kermit: LIKE HELL YOU WON'T! BACK IN THE PILE!

Ahem.. Enjoy peoples!

A First And Gasping Breath

The houshi pulled the hat Kagome had given him off of his head, making the dark hair that was tied behind his head unruly. A twilight-coloured bruise stained purple across one grief-paled side of his face, making him seem dark and brooding as he watched the pale and silent taijiya across the fire from him. Kirara, subdued and curled in her master's lap, was silent, and in her red youkai eyes the fire gleamed.

Snow had closed in around them as the dawn rose, after yet another sleepless night, waiting for Inu Yasha and his blood stained hands to return. Three days, and no sign- none at all, as if he had fled like the night was now doing, never to return. "He will come back," said the houshi, his voice hoarse and cracking from tears and misuse."He has to come back."

Sango nodded as snow flurried like her worries around her. The strange brown coat, though warm, offered no comfort to her- it reminded her of Kagome and the silent vow that she had made to herself on her behalf. Sango had promised herself never to left anything happen to her adoptive sister- yet it had, on the hands of someone who had made the exact same vow. She could have been subduing the enraged Inu Yasha instead of hiding away in the bushes, fearful for her own dark and wretched life.

Her hands clenched in her gloves, and she angrily ripped them off, letting them redden and raw with the cold. Damn them. Damn her. **DAMN INU YASHA!** Her heart burst with rage and contempt, and then, after that agony passed, there was nothing left but a smoldering ember and regret. For what seemed the umpteenth time, she began to cry with tearless eyes, ones that ached with the force of her sobs. Where was Inu Yasha? Where was Kagome? In her heart, one that was riddled with holes, she knew that they were never coming back. That knowledge made her fear the dawn, and the day, when she could see the world with her undeserving eyes.

The houshi's arms closed around her as she cried, offering all the comfort in his embrace, begging for some in return. They cried together for some time, the sky lightening like a bright beacon of hope. Their tear-filled eyes reflected the light, and suddenly the gasping of their sobs melted away, and in their hearts was driven a silver gleam of hope. With a sad sigh, the houshi stood, picking up his sun-goldened Shakujou from the snow, which danced with the blue shadows of ice-heavy boughs as they bent with the wind. Today was today, and sorrows were brighter with the sun. He half-expected to hear Kagome laugh, hear Inu Yasha's impatient grunts as he ushered the humans into action. But, no- the houshi did not hear those morning sounds, and the absence of them caused an ache in his heart, and a burning in his curse.

Sango stood, the pain of her wounds burning as she roused a red-eyed Shippou from a shallow slumber, tired from crying himself to sleep yet again over his oka. She picked up her Hiraikotsu, shouldering it upon her back, and looked up to the clearest of skies. The Kitsune leapt upon her, his voice silent, his eyes watchful. She turned towards the houshi, her limbs full of protest, her eyes asking a question.

"We cannot wait for them anymore, Sango," whispered Miroku, his voice heavy.

Sango's voice quavered. "What can we do?"

The houshi's eyes grew hard, and in a gasp of wind his robes billowed about him, betraying the gasping winds of his taste for vengeance. "Will look for those youkai who killed our Kagome. _We look for them, and Naraku, whom they are birthed from!"_

888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

In the dark, there gleamed nothing. It was the flat mat surface of a night without the pleasure of seeing the rising light of morning- until two eyes opened, two deep emotionless eyes that were the colour of blood. In this darkness, somewhere where the eyes touched the light, there came the emotionless voice of a murderer. "Hitsumaru. Tsusimaru."

The voice of one of his newest children came in a deep whisper."Hai, Naraku."

"You have failed, and that displeases me. You were cut down by one single arrow, from one single woman. What have you to say?"

The two youkai, not a difference but the colour of their clothes between them, answered with a similar bow to their heads. "We have failed. For that we are undeserving to be a part of you."

The voice of the murderer took on the tone of a fool: it was filled with condescending laughter. "Undeserving?" He bent towards the wan winter light that pooled from the window, showing his features to all- that of a young man, beautiful, and with an emptiness about his eyes. Hitsumaru and Tsusimaru nearly recoiled, fearful of their creator, and fearful of being forsaken.

"Out of my sight," said Naraku, his voice filled with disgust. "And when you find Ka-go-me, bring her to me." With elegant bows to their master and creator, they left his presence with anguished sighs.

For a moment, there was deep soft silence. Then, his voice once again polluted the air: "Kanna," he said softly.

"Hai, Naraku," said the colourless girl tonelessly, kneeling beside him. Her white dress pooled around her, adding to her bland colourlessness; she was his favorite, for she did not ask questions nor question him. She was obedient, and she almost never spoke.

"Show me the hanyou and his worthless _human_ friends." The mirror in Kanna's small white hands flashed with the reflection of a distant sun- in it, Naraku saw the blood of his enemies. He leaned back into the shadows, laughing. "Dead, then?" The murderer said, his voice full of pleasure, honey-smooth and honey-sweet.

8888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

In the sparse flakes of snow, draped with dappled shadows of a midday sun, a small green youkai clutched the Nintoujou close to his heart, watching in apprehension as Sesshoumaru stood over the prone body of the dead and frozen miko. His only hand touched the pommel of the Tenseiga, clenching and tensing as though to draw it out, then falling lax and undecided. Rin, clutching her hands, gave the corpse -which had begun to fester- a wide berth, staying stuck like a burr to Jaken's side. Jaken smoldered with his silent rage and rebellion, and hoped his master would leave the body to rot like it was meant to, and return to dust forever.

In Sesshoumaru, however, there lingered a faint glimmer of doubt. His beautiful face remained still and composed, and sun shone down upon him and his feet, honey-coloured and dancing. His amber eyes traveled over the bundle that the miko made, his nose nearly wrinkling at the smell of her death. Sour, rotten, soft flesh. It was enough to make him hate the miko, hate her smell, hate her death. She was like the hanyou: smug, knowing she was tormenting him with her stench.

Then, the Tetsusaiga filled his mind like a sun and a curse. He could not touch it, and neither could Rin; it seemed to him like no mere human could or ever will. But this dead form in front of him was not a mere human: it was a miko.

Making his decision, he slowly drew the Tenseiga out, letting it flash at being released in the sun. He clenched his hand, ignoring his servant's squeals of protest, to his ears like the buzzing of flies. His protests did not matter now; neither did the winter, or the snow, or the world- all he saw was the spirit snatchers, trying to remove a large soul from a dead frozen frame. He killed them savagely in on languid movement of his sword, and the miko before him drew one first and gasping breath, opening her eyes to the sky.


	5. The Miko's Tears

Ok, ok I know... I'm so bad at keeping up with my updates! I know, I know, I'm terrible!

I do have school, and I am just plain lazy... so no excuse of mine can work, eh? I was sick for a while... I think I had mono, I was tired... but I feel a little better now! I'm sorry! Thank you for reading! Oh, and it FINALLY snowed. Jeesh! It's supposed to be CANADA!

Oh, yay, reviews! I love you all!! He he he!

keosis-chan: HURRAY FOR CLIFFIES! THEY ARE MY MINIONS! I read your story and I think its great! :) Thanks for the 10/10! I know, I'm really great! (cough) not... KawaiiDemons: I'm sorry! I should update more often, should I? (dodges rotten fruit) OK THEN! Thanx for reviewing!

Yohko no Gothika: Thanks! Such high praise! (bows) I'm glad you like it, even if you don't like the pairing, that's ok. Its a free country! (at least in Canada, LOL. I'm kidding!)I

kagome of the western lands: Thanks and I will! Thanks for reviewing! I luv ya!

Bob-sama: Thank you! You are nice! Yeah, I am trying to make it as in character as possible... I'm not going to suddenly make Sess have "feelings" that he is confused about. Feh. If he did have feelings, I'm sure he wouldn't be confused about them...at all. I am also not going to bring Kagome to his castle. It is stereotyped, and a tiny bit annoying...

distorted-desire: Yeah. About the abrupt change of character in the last chapter... an uploading problem. There's supposed to be signs in between, and they didn't show. So I reloaded it and put 8's instead. 8's worked! LONG LIVE 8'S! Thank you for reviewing!

Ok, less reviews than last time, bu, whatever... (sniff) come ON, people! Review! Please?

DISCLAIMER! : **I DO NOT OWN INU YASHA. **If I did, I would murder Jaken.

(Evil grin)

Jaken: Like you could, worthless human.

Kermit: I'm bigger than you! I'm higher in the food chain than you! GET IN MY BELLY!

OK! HERE WE GO!

The Miko's Tears

The world was a dark and changing abyss; it was cool, and empty, and unending- it mirrored the blue sorrowed heart. Where was it? Where had it gone? What had it become? The soul was aware of nothing, and was part of the nothing that grew and blossomed and pulsed around it. The fear pulsed in the spirit, the fear pulsed in the incorporeal form- as if it was the echoing of a beating heart long since ceased.

Vague recollections flooded through a vanished mind, begging for attention. Bright lights, loud sounds, blood, faces, the memory of a love lost forever. The soul was part of nothing, and everything- and that was a comfort and a deep sleep. It felt nothing, felt everything, knew nothing, knew everything, loved everything, loved nothing. It was free.

Thoughts. Those dread things, slivering in the unconscious and pooling there like dark and vengeful snakes. They did not form words, however; enough of the soul was gone for it to forget words or the use of them. Soon, soon, soon, the rest of the soul would join the rest, and it would be complete.

The hunger for completion flared suddenly in the spirit. Anger, and love, and rage, and sadness- all those feelings returned to the soul in an overwhelming tide. Fear followed soon after, piercing the remains. A light, flickering, teasing in front of it, and if it had had eyes, it would have seen the promise inside. A light as bright as a sword. A pressure built inside of the soul, pushing and pulsing and writhing, seeking means for escape. It fought desperately for control.

_I know what I am, _ the soul murmured to itself, words it did not hear. Soon, the memory of self disappeared, and the light burned all the brighter, insistently, almost angered by the soul's defiance, angered by its sloth.

_Kagome. My name is Kagome. _The soul suddenly knew, and then light erupted in her eyes, exploded in her senses, and made her heart erupt wildly against her ribs.

The world danced in front of her eyes, fear made her throat clench. She tried desperately to open her eyes, but the lids were heavy, and all she wished to do was return to the place where she had come. The darkness, the coolness.

Snowflakes were damp upon her cheeks, like the hollow tracks of her dried tears. Her face felt cold, and dry, and so did her heart. She lifted her hands to her face, her muscles screaming at the movement, and dropped them uselessly to her sides.

_The pain. The red eyes. The claws sliding into the heart._ Kagome flinched as she remembered. How had she survived with _his _claws deep in her heart? She had felt the stopping of her heart, felt the dipping of her stomach, felt the bending of her knees as she had crashed to the ground. After that, no pain, none- as if she had misplaced her ability to feel.

She licked her lips, which were dry and chapped. She found her voice, before she could open her eyes, and spoke in a whispery shadow of the former prowess of her speech. "Where am I?"

For a long time, there came no answer. She could hear the snow falling, its silence, the wind gently whispering through snow-laden trees. There was a hissing and a crackling, and that and her nose told her that a fire had been kindled somewhere near her. She shivered, deeply cold nonetheless. Her gloves were stiff against her hands, strangely rough. Suddenly, silence reigned, uncomfortable, and a drifting shadow crossed hers, throwing her into more darkness. Her speech still burned in her throat, unanswered.

A clay cup filled with cool water was pressed gently to her lips, held by a child's hands. She drank slowly, savouring every drop as though it was the breath of her life. Before her fiery thirst was quenched, the cup was pulled away. She licked the wetness from her lips, feeling the coolness of her life begin to seep back into her limbs. How had she survived?

"Inu...Inu Yasha?" She ventured weakly, hoping for a response, a beg evident in her tone of voice. What were the last things she had said to him before she had lost consciousness? Had she told him she loved him? Her throat clenched, though this time not from thirst, and sobbed deeply, wretched emptily. Small hands rubbed her back in quick circles, a child's voice murmuring in her ear. She felt heavy, almost as if she was going to die. In her chest, his claw marks still burned, the pain intense in her sadness.

_"Weakness." _came the hiss, soft and monotone, yet all the same hard. Kagome's breath caught in her through, choked there. The child's hands stopped moving upon her back, and hovered hesitantly there. With all of herself, she felt the taiyoukai's aura as quick and as painful as a strike. Her eyes drifted over to where the silver shadow of the youkai sat, straight-backed and cross-legged, across from the fire, watching her intently with his amber glare. She gasped raspily, trying to rise, but weakened and helpless. _"Sesshoumaru?" _

8888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

Snow fluttered feather-light upon two identical faces, two identical eyes, two identical smiles. Concealed by the darkness of the night, they left no evidence of their presence there. They were the winter. They were the night.

A flash of a smile, sharp-toothed, shone in the shadows, filled with pleasure and recognition, something that could vaguely be called triumph."The Miko seems to be awakening from her death."

Another smile, the same, forever the same, shone as bright as the last."Hai, Tsusimaru. Awakening so sweetly from her last slumber."

A frown made the smile fade away, as quick as the death of a flame. A question passed forth from the pouting mouth, something strange and childlike."Do you think she will remember us?"

The red eyes traveled to the frowning face, fixed, and the mouth grew hard. "Do you think not? We are not something that can be forgotten as such."

The frowns on both the faces smoothed abruptly away. Hitsumaru continued, his voice emotionless and yet still wild. "There is planning here that we cannot comprehend."

The other nodded, his eyes strange."Yet everything is going as planned.We see in her the emotion that will destroy her. Fear. Sadness. Doubt."

And in one voice, they said together: _"Love."_

888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

For a moment, the miko and the taiyoukai stared at each other. The youkai's face was as soft and as emotionless as the snow that twined into his white hair. The moon sailed high above them, a waning ship that cast shadows upon shades in the clearing where they sat. The miko, though afraid -he could smell it- said nothing, only sat at stared at the blood that was long-dry upon her hands.

He smelt her blood upon her, hers and no one else's. He also smelt her youth, and her death still lingering on her. His amber eyes alighted, coldly, curiously, upon her. There she sat. Miko, human, the embodiment of weakness. His pointed teeth gleamed briefly with his malice, and then faded away to nothing.

Kagome shivered, frightened. His eyes were burning upon her, two icy suns- wherever she turned her head, however hard she hugged herself, she was pierced by the sword of his attention. A tear slivered down her cheek, shimmered in the firelight, and then was roughly and abruptly rubbed away. She would not allow herself to be humiliated in front of the beast. Never. It would be like exposing her neck to him, exposing such weakness. She held her chin up bravely, and met his gaze, but her chin and lips trembled. She had almost forgotten how beautiful he was : the curve of his cheek, his soft mouth, his golden eyes, his silver hair. The eyes narrowed, slightly, ever so slightly, and her nerve was lost. She lowered her eyes to her gloved hands once more, watching her breath twist up and away.

She was silent for a long time, listening to the deep breathing of the little girl and the raspy croak of Jaken as they both slept profoundly. She could hear the steady, even, quiet breaths of the taiyoukai, and that filled all of her hearing. His eyes still dug into her, almost as if she could bleed beneath their pressure. A gasp shot forth from her, and she bit her lower lip. Never in her life had she felt so frankly and obscenely observed.

The weight of the gaze was miraculously lifted, and the silence that followed at its heels was a sweet mercy. Her mouth parted, and without her willing them raspy words leapt forth. "Lord...Sesshoumaru. What do you need me for?"

His anger seemed to stiffen his shoulders, silver with moonlight and snow. "I would never need a ningen." He said coolly, emotionlessly.

Kagome leaned forwards, her hands grasping vainly and tightly upon the snow. "Then why do you keep me here? Why do you keep me from my friends? _From... from Inu Yasha?_ Why?"

Sesshoumaru's pointed ears heard, curiously, the break upon the hanyou's cursed name. The hanyou, who had cursed his claws with this human's blood. "You love him." He said, disgusted, still emotionless. The weight of his eyes once again crushed her, smothering her aura, like a moth caught helpless between his hands.

The miko lowered her eyes to her lap. "Yes," she said so quietly, so softly, it might have been the brush of her eyelashes as she bent her head to cry. Her shoulders rocked as she sobbed, as the hot tears burned down her cold cheeks.

Sesshoumaru murmured, his voice cool with an underlying bitterness, that the hanyou was not worth half of the miko's tears. She did not hear him, so caught up in her anguish, so he lifted his gaze from her, his eyes full of the flame of the fire and his nose full of the salt of her tears.


	6. The Ruin Of A Clay Shell

HAPPY CHRISMAKWANZAAHANNUKAH! (X-mas, Kwanzaa, Hanukkah.)

Yeah yeah. You must hate me, keeping you all waiting like that! But don't hate me! I turned 15 on the 13th of December! He he he! I'M A YEAR OLDER! Sniff... sun rise, sun set... (fiddler on the roof)

My excuse for not posting is this: I'm on one of my inspiration things, for my book... you know the ones... and I have dreamt another strange dream! I will describe it here...

I was driving my mum's red-black van (which is strange, cause I don't drive (15, remember) and it falls into what in my dream is a representation of Bruce Pitt ( this sort of gigantic hole in Ottawa with forest and leaves and dog doo doo and stuff. You walk dogs and bike and sled there...) and I sort of dropped it into the lake. There is no lake there. It goes smaller and I'm chasing it down a fast stream, down a waterfall(turns out I wasn't in the car anymore... lucky). And then I'm teleported to some sort of dark parking lot place and tell my dad... he's pissed... and we fish it out of some sort of sewer thingie with two thick silver ropes tied to the mirrors. Yeah. Then the dream switches to some sort of strange school. My appearance is that of my soul (I believe we look nothing like our souls/dream forms. I don't want to tell you what the dream-form I take while sleeping is but if you ask I might) and I am going through all my grades in school again. Every grade lasts about 10 mins to an hour, depending upon how fast you finish the tests. One test was to paint a picture, I did well (I'm good at drawing, but without a scanner I can't POST THEM! GAH!) anyhoo, I made it to grade 4 before I woke up. Talk about a boring dream. If you want to hear about my other dreams, just ask and I will post them with every chapter. Or not!

Yay, reviews! I'm so lucky! Birthday Presents! I feel so loved!

keosis-chan: You're #1! You're #1! We're # 2! We're # 2!Thanks for reviewing, yet again! Have you reviewed every chapter? Wait a sec... No, but 3/5 is close enough. I appreciate your support! And if you're wondering about what I meant by "story" you asked me to read your Fruits Basket... It was good! Hehehe! I really hope you like this chapter! If you have any questions about it, just e-mail me or put it in a review. That goes for all those with a burning, itchy question! (hmm.... I made them seem like a secret rash...) Loves ya 4eva!

distorted-desire: I'm glad you like the evil twin demons (and think they're sexy! He he he) because they are based off of a character in my book that I love to death. He is also a twin (and also sexy!), but he looks nothing like him. LOVE YA, XOE! Not his real name, just an abbreviation. Ok. Yeah. Sess will not turn romantic AT ALL. Sorry to disappoint those who want him to fall head over heels and get all toasty and mushy with egg nog on top (gah, I hate that stuff... shiver... my twin loves it... yurk...). Yeah, it does get a little tiring. Sess IS someone cold and dangerous, but if you look into his character, you can see that he holds some vague reluctant compassion. Hell, if I was him, I would have killed Jaken a long time ago. Hell, if I was anyone else, all I'd do is sleep and stay up late to watch Inu Yasha and Witch Hunter Robin while eating toast. Mmm... toast... Yeah, I'm sorry to inform you but Inu Yasha _is_ dead, sorry I was vague about that. Thanks for reviewing! HUGGLES!

CherryBlossomLove: Yeah, sorry about the intensity. I want this fic to be angsty and such. I am not a fan of happy endings. To me, happy endings are much sadder than sad, true, unresolved ones. It means, in a book series/TV series/movie series, that the series is truly over. But sad endings can get frustrating, like in a Series of Unfortunate Events. Nope, not just a movie, a book, people! Thanks for reviewing and I promise I'll keep writing! I do have a holiday and a lot of time on my hands!

Jessica: Ooh, another anonymous reader! Yippee! Thanks for your praise on the storyline ("the story's coming along great") because people usually comment on my writing skills. I know I'm awesome, people! I kid, I kid! HUGGLES!

addicted...: Another anonymous reader? Yay! Love ya for the praise! I don't deserve it, really! I'm glad you and all who read find that Sesshy is acting just as he should. He is restrained on a tight leash and won't fall into the homicidal cliched kingdom of OOC. I will make it so, and it shall be done!

Disclaimer: Aww, do I have to? Ok. **I do not own Inu Yasha. **I own a computer and a jar of mustard but that's it. If I did, I'd make Naraku do a waltz. Despite popular belief, he is VERY graceful and could execute a perfect tango or salsa at ease. He can also break dance. In my world, anyway... Naraku, unfortunately, is unavailable for a comment, though I'm sure he would vouch for me. Here is Sesshoumaru, still tied firmly to his leash keeping him out of the homicidal cliched kingdom of OOC, and has a comment, though:

Sesshoumaru: Let me GO, woman! Let me off of this damned leash!

Kermit:... Never!

Sesshoumaru: Let me GO! I want to have my arm restored and want to heal/save Kagome from a terrible death and fly her to my castle where after she gets better can be a mum for my human kid and there we can reluctantly bond and mate and have children!!!!

Kermit: Hush now child. We stopped listening to you years ago.

Sess: GRRRR!

Kermit: (Gulp) If I survive, I'll write more. But in the meantime, ON WITH THE STORY!

The Ruin Of A Clay Shell

Kagome shivered, awakening after a short shallow sleep, eyes tight and painful with the new light. There, sitting as if he had not moved, was Sesshoumaru, eyelids half-dropped over his eyes. She gasped, seeing the peeking golden colour of the eyes like the first glint of dawn. Upon her gasp, the eyes slowly opened and blazed like suns upon her. She saw them, saw their radiance, and spoke the loved name aloud. "Inu Yasha..."

Sesshoumaru's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, watching her and her actions, every small move she made. He opened his lips, paused, and then said in an untouched, dull voice: "the hanyou you speak of is dead," closed his lips and said nothing more.

He watched as her skin turned all the paler, throwing the blood upon it into sharper focus. The lips upon it trembled, new tears found their way from the corners of the eyes. He watched it, angered by the weakness he saw in her. His eyes blazed with his hatred: his hatred for the human race.

Sesshoumaru was silent, and watching, not giving her the dignity of mourning alone. Not allowing her. He watched her, measuring the weakness in every tear, every sob. Her heart throbbed deliciously with her sorrow, and though he found vague satisfaction in causing her pain, her tears irked him and bored him. Jaken, clutching the Nintoujou, watched her with spite, almost glowing like an ember with his annoyance and hate. Rin clutched to Sesshoumaru's clothes, watching her and twitching with her need to rush to comfort her.

Sesshoumaru watched the dawn's glow linger upon the embers of the fire, and was suddenly filled with the need to leave, to retrieve the sword that glowed ever so brightly and thirstily in his mind. He stood, his movements languid, and brushed dawn-goldened white hair out of his beautiful face, and turned to walk away. The miko's sobs slowed and stopped, watching him as intently as he watched her. "You're leaving me?" she said, ever so softly, her voice thick with tears.

Sesshoumaru stopped. "No," he said, voice, as always, emotionless and cool. For the first time in days the snow was not blowing, and the sun glowed almost hot over them all. "You will be coming with me."

The miko's eyes grew wide and frightened, but she said nothing. She stiffened her lips, and stood, dusting snow off of herself. The strange, unpleasant smell of her blood and her death wafted towards him, and the smell of her unwashed body. He turned his face away from her reek, and began to walk the snowy trail back to where his half-brother lay smug and silent and cold. He could sense her following, her steps shuffling and faltering along the ground. Her steps, no matter how long she walked, only became louder and more uncertain as she stumbled behind him and his laity. He could smell her tears and her reek, both overpowering. His shoulders stiffened with the sudden need to kill her, bring her to death again, and leave her to fester again.

"Where are we going?" She eventually asked, breaking the silence of hours. Her voice trembled and choked with her sadness, and Sesshoumaru did not answer her. After all, was she not a mere human, and undeserving of a response?

888888888888888888888888888888888

Kagura stood in the arms of the snow-dark tree, awaiting Naraku's new children with spite and rage barely restrained beneath her skin. Her winds caressed like arms around her, bending obediently to the will of her red and white fan. The newly-dead villagers leapt to her beck and call, crawling and dancing blank-eyed out of the coldest of earths. She smiled softly, and so did her dancers, before falling down to the soil once more.

The destruction of this meager human village had been quick, simple, and pointless. The youkai under Naraku's will had rushed like a sea into the village, and like a sea had crushed it utterly. And in the center of all chaos, were the twins, twisting their blades to kill whatever was in their way, devouring the souls of the villagers as they fell. Their hair, raven-black, flew behind them like the banner of death as fire consumed the world around them. The glow of the village's blaze had bruised the sky red, and now embers glowed in the dawn, and human shells littered the earth. Smoke was fading way, like all of her hopes.

Kagura did not know her terrible master's intentions- to bring to life from his misshapen womb twins to do his bidding, to make them cause the death of his dearest enemies, and then to burn down this village where no one could see. Naraku had never given an explanation- he had just disappeared, with Kanna in his lap, to another place.

Kagura spat on the ground that was cold with snow, hating her master silently as his twins came up to her like pretty shadows. They smiled the same smile as Kagura's eyes traveled down to their hands, which were smeared with mortal blood. She sneered back, and whipped her fan, causing their pristine clothes and hair to fly into disarray. They pouted blood-reddened lips.

"Do you know the purpose of this, _brothers ,"_ spat Kagura, bitting off the word, "why Naraku has told you to destroy this place?"

"Yes, sister," they said in the same voice, smoothing down each other's clothes. "The clay woman lives here."

_The clay woman..._ Kagura's empty red eyes hardened. "Kikyou. She lives here."

Tsusimaru nodded. "Yes, sister. We have done as father bids, and have killed all, save her."

Kagura felt a strange pang of foreboding. Naraku, unable to kill Kikyou, has yet again driven her into wilderness. Kagura could smell her, clay and souls. The spirits she kept inside her were escaping, burning a trail in the sky. Her wounds were cracks, bloodless. She was running for her life, and failing, as the bit of soul she had stolen from that damned hanyou's wench was beating against its confines.

Naraku was going to win over her, once and for all! Even from far away, Kagura could feel the triumph in him. With an uttered curse, she pulled a white feather from her dark hair and, obeying her will, grew to cup her softly and fly her away.

888888888888888888888888888888888

The taiyoukai's silent, soft footfalls slowed and stopped, his nose catching the rancid, cloying scent of death and smoke. His companions also stopped, and he heard the miko fall onto her knees in the soft mask of the snow. He turned to her, when she clutched her chest, mouth open wide, trying hard to breathe. He watched her struggle slightly, before opening her eyes wide, clutching herself. Soon, her breathing slowed, as he knew it would, and she began to take small, tentative breaths.

Rin stepped forwards tentatively, watching her master's impassive face before rushing forwards. The miko clutched on the end of her kimono, her knuckles white.

"It feels...it feels odd..." she said haltingly, seemingly abashed and frightened. He could smell the fear upon her, a reek of sweat and feeling. Ah Un walked slowly up to her, and she clutched him with both arms instead. "I feel...someone coming.They...they are calling for me..." She bent and retched, the acid smell of her spittle stinging his nose.

"Lord Sesshoumaru," came her high child voice, tinged with worry, "Kagome-sama is sick. Lord Sesshoumaru, she needs water."

"Silence, Rin," he said, his voice filled with boredom. His charge obeyed, her mouth tightly closed. "Jaken, take her away."

Jaken jerked out of a stupor and bowed reverently, clutching the Nintoujou with both trembling hands. "Hai, Lord Sesshoumaru," he squawked, rushing to Rin and leading her away, Ah Un following obediently behind. The snow swirled in front of their eyes, and then there was trembling silence. Soon what filled it was the miko's frightened breathing.

For a moment, the blazing suns of the Taiyoukai's eyes bored into her shivering frame, silent and cold. "What do you feel?" he asked, but in his smooth tone of voice it could never be called a question.

The miko's eyes widened slightly, and then lowered to her gloved hands, as they always did. "I felt... I feel..." she faltered, and stopped, her heart beating rapidly- he could hear it. "My heart... it flared... and then it hurt so bad." She gestured vaguely at her own chest and then dropped her hand. Her heartbeat slowed as she calmed. She shivered.

"You are cold." He said simply, before tensing as he smelled the pungent aroma of earth, bones, and clay. She opened her mouth to answer, but all that came out was a strangled gasp. Sesshoumaru turned to the dark bars of the trees, searching it for signs of the other miko to appear.

_"Kikyou?" _ The miko whispered in surprise as she saw the priestess enter the clearing, staggering, her spirit catchers drifting and coiling uselessly around her. The white ribbon that tied her black hair was loose, letting strands of it fall darkly about her face. She seemed to shiver, teeth chattering, lips blue with weakness, as she shuffled over to where the other miko sat, unmoving. Kagome leapt up to catch her as she fell. Her strangely-clothed arms closed around her enemy as her pale clay hands clutched her.

Kagome felt a pang of guilt in her heart as she held Kikyou close, murmuring to her as a mother would to a child. She smoothed the hair away from her cool face, and cried.

"Forgive me...Kagome," Kikyou whispered as the last of Kagome's soul leapt back into her. Her eyes widened and dulled as she finally died. "Forgive me!"

Kagome did not move, hot tears flowing down her face. "I forgive you," she said uselessly, as the spirit catchers faded away. She wiped her own tears from her face, closed Kikyou's eyes, and kissed her forehead. "Rest, now that you can."

For a moment, she looked at her hands, bending her head in brief prayer for her once-enemy. Sesshoumaru turned away, calling for his servant and his charge to return to him like fledgling birds. The miko stood, head still bowed, and turned to him, face tearless.

"I am not afraid of you anymore," she said in a trembling voice, and passed him to walk in front of him. Sesshoumaru reined in his wrath, observing how her feet stumbled. She was weary, and would soon fall far behind.


	7. The Sun Upon Her Blood

I AM SO SORRY! I wish I could update more often, but I had exams, and the teachers were really cramming it in there! I also have four new courses!

Hello everyone. Not in a particular good mood, because I was on antibiotics and a puffer because I had really bad bronchitis so no cheery intro today! You would be glad to know that I'm better now! I'm just listening to music that's blasting in my ears and am lamenting on the little reaction my fic is making on fanfiction AND mediaminer... nobody seems to like it anymore, or care. Hello? Where are my adoring fans? (grin)

Oh, yes. Reviews. Thanks to those who review, because I KNOW you care about my fan fic, unlike those who don't post reviews... I'm just gonna put my stupid fan fic chapter on... and reply to your wonderful reviews! He he he!

Ray: Thanks! (grin) I felt so unwanted until you said that! I'm sorry it took me a while to update, I promise I will do more when exam shock is over... I'm failing...sob...

tears of death: Thank you for reviewing, oh powerful anonymous one. Do you really know how glad your review made me feel? It made you cry! I love you for that! Please keep reading! You are the best!

shadows-insanity: Thank you so much! I will try to update as much as possible, so keep reading, keep reviewing. It makes days!

Demon Mortal: Thankyou for reading! I'm really glad you like it! I hope you like this chapter too!

kwannon: Thanks! The Kikyou bit came out of nowhere, so I'm glad a lot of people liked it! Poor old Kikyou... sure, she was mean, but she had her reasons...

kagegrl: Thanks! Keep reading, and I really appreciate your support! Huggles!

Media Miner Replies:

DarklessVasion: I'm glad you find Sess to be cold because that's just how I wanted him to be! I love that you found my story dark, because that's also a thing I wanted to put in. I wanted to give Inu Yasha the most tragic end...sorry, buddy...but then Kagome can find comfort with the taiyoukai that she is with. As to where I am taking this story, we will just have to see... (grin)

Wow, 30 reviews! I didn't know it would become this much! Thank you everyone! YAY!

Disclaimer: Nope. Own nothing but some leftovers, some relish, and my moldy oldy brain!

The Sun On Her Blood

The pungent smell of smoke made Kagome's eyes water and burn as they stood in the center of the dead, charred and empty village. Embers still curled and glowed around them, and smoke rose from the earth like tired, sickly breathing. The wind stirred her ebony hair into her face, turning everything into swirling strands of dark. All was quiet save for this wind. All was red save for this dark.

Blood and charred corpses were everywhere, curled in mortal husks of pain and death. Kagome shivered, clutching herself, the pungent smell overpowering even her own blundering senses. She coughed as a gust of smoke rushed over her, and she drew a breath and pressed a hand over her nose. Sesshoumaru stood calmly despite his surroundings- a prince among black smoke and screaming death.

Rin clutched his legs, burying her face in the scent of her only parent. She whimpered, ever so needy, and the taiyoukai picked her up, holding her as she cried. The wind tossed in his silver hair, mingling with the white pelt slung over his shoulder. Colourful. Colourless.

Kagome shivered endlessly, clutching her sides. Even Jaken was silent, clutching his staff tightly to himself, quaking ever so slightly. "What happened?" Kagome whispered, biting her bottom lip, shaking with fear.

"Demons have passed through, you stupid ningen," grumbled Jaken sullenly, eying her roughly. "Surely in your village you have heard of such demon attacks."

Kagome swallowed slightly and chose not to answer him, her thoughts wandering miles away and down a dark deep well. The stink of corpses was now stronger as the sun edged over it all, and she nearly gagged on the putrid stink of the lack of life around her. She squeezed her hands together.

The taiyoukai placed Rin back onto her feet, ordering her softly to stop crying, and stepped across a chaos-torn plain of earth. With sun-coloured eyes, he examined coolly the fire that still burned, dancing free under his glare.

"Why have we come here? Why don't we leave?" Came the frightened voice of the miko, and then the scratching of her feet against embers and stone approached him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw how her eyes watered. Around them, the acrid smell of blood mingled with the smoke, and then her scent- death, sadness, tears.

He then heard a noise that warranted further attention. For a moment, he eyes moved to meet hers, and she gasped at the movement.

"Go back to Jaken," he ordered her, his voice without a trace of emotion, though he knew some was playing vaguely inside his eyes. She took a slow, halting step backward, and then another, and then turned and stumbled away. Rin latched her arms around her legs, and the miko's hand drifted down to caress her blowing black hair.

He stepped lightly among wreckage, closing his eyes as another waft of smoke billowed around him, bringing the scent of demon and flame. As he watched, a crawling hand reached and dragged against the wreckage, pulling the broken, empty-eyed body behind it. "Please, demon, please..." the figure wailed weakly, dirty nails scratching holes in the charred earth. "End my life! I beg you! I have nothing left!"

The taiyoukai would have never hesitated before killing a mere human creature, one that was scratching pitifully upon the earth. So, with a final crush, he shattered its neck underfoot. The creature did not deserve a second thought.

Just then, the miko cried out in pain, a cry that rang through his ears, almost stinging him, almost making him feel vague concern. He made his way back to them, seeing Rin leaning over the miko, small round face twisted ugly in worry. When Rin lifted her face away, the wind brought the scent of fresh blood to him, and the flash of warm red against white snow and black char flashed in the sunlight.

Kagome hissed through her teeth at her own clumsiness, pressing her hands upon the wound etched deeply into her knee. Blood soaked into the glove between her fingers as the taiyoukai's inevitable shadow fell across her. The day grew cooler as the taiyoukai regarded her with disinterest. She could not help but feel a glimmer of fear as she became trapped in his gaze again, and could not help but hear murmurs of thoughts in her mind that told her she believed he was beautiful.

"You have injured yourself," he said simply, as warm sun glimmered across his face, "let me see what you have done."

Kagome did not expect him to show any kind of concern for a ningen like herself, something he despised. She knew he hated her, and did not know why he still kept her close to his side. Kagome somehow knew that if she ran, he would hunt her down to kill her, his claws digging into her throat. She closed her eyes tight, alarmed to find tears at the corners of them, and shook her head stubbornly.

"Foolish, clumsy ningen," exclaimed Jaken, pointing the Nintoujou at her, "you _will _show Lord Sesshoumaru your wound!"

Kagome sighed and rolled up her pants as far as they would go, brandishing her cut to the cold wind. She hissed through her teeth at the pain and the sight of her own blood, which burned hotly against her skin, and clamped her hands over it again.

To her profound surprise, the taiyoukai's single hand drifted down and lifted her hands away to touch where it burned the worst. She held her breath for a moment, and lifted her face to vaguely meet the taiyoukai's eyes, surprised at how gentle his clawed touch was before he lifted his hand away. His eyes cooly asked the question: how?

"Oh," she said, lowering her eyes and blushing. "I was climbing into a burned house to get this..." She reached behind her, and showed him the old, worn peasant's kimono she had found. It was simple, old, yet clean, and she had wanted it so he would no longer look at her with disgust. She knew she smelled like death, like blood, like Inu Yasha...

She got to her feet, slightly wincing, while Jaken rolled his large yellow eyes. Sesshoumaru lifted his gaze away from hers, and allowed her to follow him. Her blood cooled and dried upon his fingertips, and the wind blew the smoke away.

888888888888888888888888888888888

The world was locked in chains of molten ice. Light flickered off the surface, shredding brilliance into a blinding ray.

Sango looked up to a bland, slate, sun-lightened sky, and sighed a misty cloud. Shippou, curled up and silent in her arms, shed quiet tears as the sun turned all to brilliance. Miroku stood before her like a robed shadow, yellow-edged by the light.

A sob rattled in her chest, but she bit it swiftly down, clutching Shippou closer. The night before had been sleepless and long, and, since all had lost the ability to cry, mute. In all their faces, weariness bloomed.

Miroku had urged her onwards, silently, and she had followed. Now, she was worried that they had been chasing some old dream. For now Miroku's eyes had become wild, uncaring, persistent in his revenge, a downward turn towards some other distant place. He bent towards her as the dawn splintered around them, and held her in his arms until she slept.

888888888888888888888888888888888

"I will guard you, Kagome-sama!" echoed the shrill, happy cries of his charge. The sun was bright upon the brow of the sky, and the world was new- it carried the mingled scent of river and forest. "I will make sure no one see!"

The river that Rin had found was cold but swift, and as the miko bathed herself and her clothes Sesshoumaru sat in the frozen woods, deep in contemplation. Ah Un lay curled, his yellow eyes watching the taiyoukai as he sat, hand touching the white pelt lightly.

The day was reaching its peak, and the scent of day still clung to the youkai's senses. The scent of life, all around him- the feel of Rin as she played, the heat of the sun as it danced through his hair. He closed his eyes, seeing the Tenseiga there- forever restless, never at peace. A star in the darkness behind his amber eyes.

With patience, he awaited the return of the miko. He could smell her, hear her gasps and shivers as the river turned her skin to ice. A torment, he knew, for ningens who could die so, so easily. The river was like a dragon, winding, curling, beautiful- ferocious.

She returned, dressed in the peasant's kimono she had found in the village. She no longer smelled like death, however: like human, now, like a female. The taiyoukai gracefully stood, watching her as she put on her large strange shoes. Rin leaned against her, sleepy again.

"Jaken," said Sesshoumaru, "we are leaving now."

Jaken jerked out some daydream and nodded eagerly. "Up, ningen, up!"

The miko stood unsteadily, carrying her old wet clothes to Ah Un and placing them in a saddlebag. Rin climbed up to the scaly creature's back, settling there and closing her eyes.

There she was, following him again: the heavy shuffle of her feet gave away her weariness, and her smell, still overpowering, wafted over to him. He payed her no mind, and turned his face towards the trail, noticing the dark clouds gathering overhead. Soon, snow came again: he could almost hear her shivering. _Ningen, _he thought,_ are very weak. _

888888888888888888888888888888888

A white-pelted shadow stood in the center of a ruined village, holding a pink slice of brilliance between its fingers. Its dark blood flowed across its surface as its sharp sides peirced his perfect flesh. Dark, long, curly hair spilled over his shoulders, spilled into his red eyes.

He stood over a spill of blood, one dotted with snow, nearly old. Dusk fell and gleamed last light into this stain, and the figure smiled.

"Ka-go-me," he said softly, bending down to touch the cool liquid of her life. The shard in between his fingers glowed as he placed it in the center of the smear. "Your life is mine."

The snow swirled faster as the shard burned the blood to life, and Naraku smiled softly, a cresent of lust in the pale of his face.

"Your life is mine, for you _will_ die."


	8. The Sword

IMPORTANT NOTICE TO ALL THOSE WHO READ CRESENT MOON ON THE THE BROW OF THE SKY ON If I have FINALLY managed to get stupid chapter 8 up on stupid ffnet which wont let me post, I'm sorry for the delay and the inconvenience it has caused you all. It sure pissed me off. Here's the problem: in document manager, the only way you can get a chapter up is to give the upload a title. When I go into the little box with my writer-blinkie-guy, my keys don't work. Everything else is fine. I tried to go to help on the damn site but it said my computer became mean and freaked out so that isn't an option. I sent all the people who have me on either favorites or on alert a notice about that via e-mail. It would absolutely KILL me if my story faded out of their favour because of a glitch in a rheumy system. I FINALLY figured out how to fix this little glitch: I copied and pasted a title in the boxy thing. If future crap occurs, my fic is on www. mediaminer. org (just take out spaces) under the same user name and title. Again, I'm sorry about all this stupid crap and I hope everyoneenjoys a long-awaited chapter!

HELLOS EVERYONE! HOW WAS YOUR MONTH? MINE SUCKED! HEHEHE!

Sorry about the delay of like, 100 days in between.

Aw well. Back with another chapter! (Smile). Wow, the last chapter got a lot of response to it, and nothing much happened in it. Kinda disappointing, if you think about it, and how much I update... Ha!

Oh, I posted some pictures on Mediaminer! Yay! Not the best I can do. And no, I didn't get a scanner. I scanner-bummed off of a friend. Thanks, L!

Ah, yes! Reviews! I got SO MANY! Love ya all!

froggiesrcool&Trisak Aminawn : Yah, i love funny weird signs! Thanks for going to my profile, not a lot do... Yur great! Thanks for reading my story, guys! Aw, now I'm hyper!

TrisakAminawn: You reviewed twice! He he he, thanks! And thankyou for liking my style of writing! (And that weird conversation was just me being hyper and ranting about sess/kag cliches. Since i take it you don't read much sess/kag, I am going to tell you they always follow a basic plotline that irritates me. Grr! Don't worry, I'm not mental-hospital nuts. I'm just nuts.) Yah, I am misleading about the sess/kag thing, and I'm sorry to disappoint you but they are going to get together, but not in the classic sense of the word. They are not going to do some weird cliche "I love you" thing. I can't imagine Sess saying that, sorry. But I do love sess/kag. Not that I have anything against Inu/kag. That's why my story's a mixture of the two. Yah, I am sorry, I suppose I am being misleading on purpose. And as for the floating creepy Casper-like Inu Yasha that's completely OOC, he's...er...well, I can't explain much without giving anything away. He didn't write that before he died, and if he did he was using his brain for once. And I think his wallowing in self kinda died when he killed Kagome. Ya know, that thing called guilt. I will make sure Kag doesn't forget him like all the other cliches do. Whoa, long answer to your review. Well, thanks for reviewing, and a really cool goodbye! ( I certainly can't match that cool one you gave me, "May you fare well wherever you fare, and eyrie receive you at journey's end.")Damn, I love people who leave large reviews!

weird-little-neko-princess: YEAH! RAMMSTEIN RULES! Thanks for liking my story, and your English isn't that bad. I think I like you, too! Huggles!

KaNaGi: Don't worry, I'll try to update! Thanks for reviewing!

KiNaGi: Er... is that you again or is this a different person? Giggles. Thanks for liking my story! You are the BEST!

Aqua Miko: My story's beautiful? Aw, thanks! That's very high praise! Thanks for liking my writing! It took a lot of years to build up the skill! I can certainly type fast now! (grin)

Lady Kagewaki: Fantastic? Moi? Aw, thanks! Huggles! Please read my story again!

Ray: Don't worry, I will! And thanks for wishing me luck on exams! I got my marks back and I PASSED! Whew!

Mediaminer replies:

Mystic Hanyou: yeah, they ARE taking forever! I just wanted to stretch it out a bit, you know... don't worry, its gonna get more exciting soon, I hope! Its my second try at a BATTLE SCENE! BOO YEAH! I suck at those. Thanks for reviewing! Huggles!

Kayashi: Thanks for liking the way I write! I would LOVE to see the picture you say you sketched...I am an art enthusiast! Unless you don't have a scanner; that's okay! I don't either! Lets mourn our scannerless lives together!

DarklessVasion: This is one of the best damn reviews I have ever gotten! You summed up my story for me; it really helped. Yep. Sesshoumaru is a meanie right now. Here's a tidbit: didn't he seem a little jealous when he stated (quite simply) that Kagome loved Inu Yasha? Hmm...Puzzle...! Kagome did get a confidence boost when Kikyou died, I'm glad you noticed. I'm surprised myself that Sesshoumaru didn't cut her down with a sword and then get Jaken to burn her remains.O.O Hmm...puzzle #2... Sess! That damn hypocrite! Bad-mouthing humans and treating Rin very kindly! Well, in this fic some global warming is gonna ensue that will thaw this walking glacier! LOL. Glacier Sess WILL thaw. Not as much to flood the world, but enough to bury some islands. Don't worry, Sango and Miroku haven't quite lost their minds... yet. MUHAHAHAHA! Cough. These characters are a blast to torture! Review again! You are the BEST!

Disclaimer: Nope! Don't own a thing, so don't sue me! Please!

The Sword

The moon overhead, a crumbling smirk in the sky, gleamed upon snow that was silver-edged like the blade of a knife. Kagome crouched, shivering in the drift of snow that surrounded her like a blanket of feathers, untouched save for the stumbling tracks that led her there.

She walked with a limp now, the wound she had gained from her clumsiness far more painful with every breath she took.

She was hiding; she was clinging to the hope that Sesshoumaru would think she was dead and leave. Her breathing, even to her own ears, was loud, casting silver fog into the sky with the plea she breathed. She clasped her hands together, feeling the numbness in them, and lost herself in thought.

Home. Home was where her heart lay, beating and painful in dreams of deep comfort and memory. Kagome knew this as much as she knew herself- that she would die if she remained any longer, lived any longer in the pain that encased her heart. A fleeting thought passed through her mind- of leaving Sesshoumaru, whose eyes held nothing but hatred for her, and finding her way back to the place that had begun, and would eventually end, her journey.

Fear of Sesshoumaru stilled her heart. She had seen what he could do to those that crossed him, be it his path or his ire. She felt as if every moment would bring his claws to her throat. Would he enjoy the feel of her blood darkening his hands? Would he smile at her, relishing the sounds of her heart standing forever still? His beauty, then, would be reflected a million times in the light of the moon.

A sob escaped her lips when she saw him, far away and high upon the hill she had slid down to get to her hiding place, a shadow against the waning face of the moon. Her tracks were so blazingly evident in the blanket of the snow, and she realized her fight was futile- he would find her, he would always find her. And when that moment occurred, there would be no room for thought as his claws buried themselves in her pulse.

A cloud covered the moon, and all became dark and blue. The snow lost its gleam and became a landscape of dark and light. There was nothing in this world now save for fear, shadows and sky. She crawled away from the figure upon the hill, snow dusting her features and her clothes, bleaching her skin with frostbite. She closed her eyes, feeling tears roll down her cheeks.

He was coming closer to her, ever closer through a swirling world of shade and moonlight. Kagome crawled ever further away from him, though the cold made her stumble and cry out. She crawled into the dark bars of the forest, and looked up to see a dark canopy framing a firmament brightened by stars. And there, staring up at the sky, she stumbled upon the man she loved.

Kagome fell to her knees, shock spreading like a stain across her face. Even in his death, some of the old familiarity remained in his rotting features. Wind stirred across his frozen face, half-buried in newly fallen snow, and revealed the hilt of the Tetsusaiga that was in his arms.

Seeing him, Kagome felt winded and strange, and pangs of fear and love stabbed their hot warnings through her heart, afterwards leaving her empty and cold. "Inu Yasha..." she murmured, the name attempting to coerce tears from her. Her heart wrenched, so hard she clutched at her chest with frost-bitten fingers, digging crescent moons into her flesh through the meager fabric of her peasant's kimono. _ My heart...hurts..._

_Pain. Pain of losing him again and again and again. _Her tears, like the opening of a stormy summer sky, fell warm down her icy cheeks, leaving scorching marks. _ Please._ She begged herself, clutching at her heart with both hands. _Please don't cry. I don't want to cry anymore._

She could feel Sesshoumaru approaching, knowing that her scent was strong and laced with fear and tears. She dragged her wrist across her eyes, anger filling her. He knew. He knew why she cried so pitifully, while snow chilled her to her marrow. She knew that next year, or the year after that, or the year after that, she would still be crying. She would be crying until the earth rose up to claim her again.

She was angry at him for chasing her through miles of twisting snow, knowing she would eventually falter, knowing that eventually she would come across _him. _Why was she living, if Sesshoumaru wished her death?Why had he brought her back, if he hated her, the very sight of her sickening him?

She could feel his presence in this clearing, very close, even though his breathing was very quiet and betrayed nothing. She faltered for only a moment, gathering up her final walls of strength that were weakened by her discovery, weakened by her sorrow. Then, she leapt forward upon stumbling legs, her fingers closing upon the hilt of the Tetsusaiga, jerking it forth from the arms of her love. The thumb of her other hand awkwardly knocked the rusted blade out from its sheath and into her hand.

Kagome turned towards him with all intention to stab him through to his cold and empty heart. Yet, when she saw him there so close to her, beautiful and silvered by the snow, eyes flat and feral in the darkness where she wished to hide, the intention died away in her. She stood, waiting, wishing he would act, would reach out and strike her so she could have a reason for stabbing him. Even though he lifted his hand towards her ever so slightly, the strike never came.

"Ningen," he said coldly, no emotion betraying him. "You have ran from me."

She whispered a word of assent, lowering her eyes and reddening at his closeness, at his presence mixing with hers. Something made her want sorely to fall to her knees, to beg forgiveness, to do anything to force his eyes away. She clutched the Tetsusaiga to her chest where her heart burned with lingering pain, feeling like it was formed out of sand.

Her fingers coiled and stiffened around the Tetsusaiga, the only betrayal to the realization that uncoiled like a snake inside. The reason she was alive now, having once been so dead- he needed her to carry this, to carry this _thing _in her hands. This _thing _which commanded all of his discreet attention, even now.

She did not understand why Sesshoumaru loved it so, like she did not understand Inu Yasha's love for it. It was power, yes- but it was a thirsty thing, fed by slaughter and dying screams. She suddenly knew that Sesshoumaru must not have it, ever. She was the first one ever able to carry it; it was fitting that the one who died carrying it would be her.

"You _can't_ have it, Sesshoumaru" she said, her voice trembling through a throat clenched in hate as she drew it shakily from its sheath. "You _won't_ have it, Sesshoumaru."

She could see the moon reflected upon its old, blunt surface, wishing for it to change but knowing it would not, it could not. A tiny whimper of despair leapt past her resolve as she bit down upon her

bottom lip, letting the rage of a miko bleed into her eyes. She knew she was not as frail of heart, as fearful, as he thought she was.

"_I am going to die tonight,"_ she whispered, and was unafraid. She was meant to die, was supposed to die- he had no right to disturb her sleep.

A dead hanyou's eyes watched Kagome as she ran, limping, towards the waiting claws of a youkai who hated her. And then, before her weapon could drag her to a promised death she wavered, feeling auras tease her inner vision. She stiffened, her eyes widening, the Tetsusaiga dipping towards the ground, bowing like a vassal. The taiyoukai observed her closely, his lack of emotion a carapace around his face.

Two figures slowly emerged from the bars of the trees around, on either side of her as she froze in apprehension. One shadow swung black hair out of its eyes, covering a beautiful crescent smile with a demon hand, drawing a sword out from among loose black clothes. The other hung back, face dripping with a smirk, his loose white clothes shifting as a blade was pulled from them. Kagome froze, a deer about to die.

"Oh almighty Taiyoukai of the West," said the one in black, a voice of smooth honey from his throat. "It seems your miko has fallen into a trap."

Kagome, through a haze of dread, saw Sesshoumaru's hard eyes become like steel.

The one in white twisted the blade in his hands, parting lips to continue the righteous speech. "Your Ka-go-me has pulled the sword out from a hanyou's hand, as you could not do, as your Rin could not do. It is just as we wrote in the snow," an identical, thirsty grin broadened upon their twin faces, two sides of a whole. _"ONLY KAGOME CAN."_

Sesshoumaru felt the power of rage rise in him, making him stiffen his features invisibly. _Treachery..._

"She belongs to our father now," said the one in black, raising his blade so it glinted in the glow of the moon. The smile widened even further, the smile echoed upon his twin's face, his eyes falling upon Kagome. "She belongs to us now."

"Ningen," said the taiyoukai coolly, catching her eye, a collision of his stoic rage and her open fear. "You may leave."

Kagome felt guilt flood her, and shook her head feircely, knowing that if he died, or was hurt, it would be her fault. It was strange how, just a moment before, she wanted to slide his life in two with a rusted sword. Still shaking her head, she held the heavy blade out in front of her, pointed towards the two pretty shadows with the wolfish smiles.

Hitsumaru. Tsusimaru. She remembered them, remembered how the one in black had pierced his claws into her throat, how one of them had plunged his fist through the hanyou she loved. One of them had killed the hanyou she loved. One of them had killed Inu Yasha.

In a haze of unbearable rage and anguish, she barely noticed that the Taiyoukai had pulled the Toukijin out from his belt, until the broad, evil blade knocked the wind from her with its presence, clouding her senses, making her dizzy with fright.

In her haze of unbearable rage and anguish, she noticed Sesshoumaru step ever so slowly in front of her, though not to protect her- he only wanted to deal the first blow.

"Ningen," he murmured coolly once more, his fist clenching around the evil sword. "You may leave."

She found herself shaking her head, her legs tensing, unwilling to move. "No," she said it clearly, so he would understand. She could not leave him, not when the reason they were here was her fault. High above, she could see a floating feather, a shadow against the moon.

The taiyoukai's shoulders stiffened, preparing for the strain of battle, silver moonlight and deep shadow bathing in his beauty. "Kagome," he stated simply, her name flowing off of his lips like water, stunning her with how much she liked the sound. "Go."

The twins approached him, slowly, maddeningly so. Then, the one in black rushed forward with a laugh upon his lips, his blade swinging towards where Sesshoumaru stood, full of grace and without fear.

The taiyoukai dodged the blow, too fast for her eyes to catch, the swinging of his long silver hair the only testament to his movement. "How foolish of you," he said, coldly, far more coldly then he had ever spoke to her. The Toukijin's aura pulsed, eager for blood. With a twist of his single hand, Sesshoumaru fed his sword, grazing and biting his enemy's shoulder.

The one in black grunted ever so slightly, a pout melting his smile away, only to be reborn again as his twin leapt into battle, a cry of anger bursting forth from his mouth. Sesshoumaru's carapace never melted, only aloof rage piercing his cool eyes.

Kagome fell to her knees, weakness falling upon her as she watched Sesshoumaru fight as though it was a dance. The two youkai fighting him seemed to be clumsy in comparison, their speed no match for his. Their sanguine blood flicked drops across the snow as the Toukijin cut them again and again, snow swirling and twisting around them madly, white and blue. A drop hit her face, and she did not bother to wipe it away, even though it burned. Sweat glinted across the twin's faces.

"You will perish," said Sesshoumaru, lifting his sword above his head, a blue flashing light erupting as he brought it, swinging, down, "FOR YOUR INSOLENCE!"

The blue light felled down the one in white, who cried out as red blood bloomed upon his clothes, which tore in places as the light engulfed him. His twin only barely got out of the way as a tree, creaking, was torn from its roots and burned away.

"HITSUMARU!" The one in black cried, his eyes burning with rage. "If he is dead, Kagome will DIE!"

Kagome found herself caught up in the fray, brought to her feet as the one in white rose, limping and tattered, to his feet. Sesshoumaru let forth from his sword another light, which turned the world to black and white as the one called Hitsumaru fell into his twin's arms, clinging to his black clothing as he jumped out of the path of destruction.

The one in black opened his mouth and called out with all the power in his lungs, "KAGURA! GET HER! _GET HER!"_

Before Kagome could even think she was in the air, in the arms of a smirking woman whose green earings flashed against her cheeks with the upstart of wind. The world was dark, snow-covered underneath them, spinning and sick.

"You will go to Naraku, you impertinent wench," the wind witch stated simply, her voice dripping with venom as her nails dug into her deeply and painfully.

Before Kagome could think, she was calling a name, opening her mouth wide, a breathy scream of fear. She could feel the presence of the Toukijin still slamming into her, disorienting her, making her wild with terror. She fought the wind witch, kicking out, biting her, hitting her with the flat of the Tetsusaiga. Kagura cursed her, trying to keep a hold upon her as she writhed, and failing.

"As you wish, Kagome," she said softly, almost sadly. "You choose death, so you will die tonight."

A wild gust of wind sent her over the soft edge of the feather, making her plunge like a stone to the depths below, clutching Inu Yasha's sword against her heart. She screamed, the sound wrenching forth from her lips, bright and full of horror, full of need. She clenched her hands to her chest, feeling her heart burn again with pain. If she had nothing to live for except for Inu Yasha, why was she so full of sorrow?

The ground was rising, coming closer, hoping to crush her with its weight, to shatter her like glass. She closed her eyes, waiting for the blow- the blow that never came.

She found herself surrounded by silver, pressed close against a body flecked with blood that was not his own. She could hear him breathing, a breath that was even and sure, never wavering. He dropped onto his feet, safely upon the snowy ground, placing her gently upon her own.

She still clutched the Tetsusaiga close to her chest, so she let her hands fall to her sides. "Why...?"

Sesshoumaru turned away, but not before she caught the look upon his face, or missed the words from his lips. Was there truly relief lying in his features, before the curtain was once again drawn in front of his eyes? Had he truly said he came because she had called?


	9. Part II: Spring

**This chapter is dedicated to BlueAngelInuMiko. May you, Jen, and your big sister rest in eternal peace. **

Sorry all for the delay. A lot of things have happened, not at all good (a.k.a projects, tests, a death in the family), so I will be brief.

This chapter is the beginning of the second part of my story! Whoo hoo! So it will not be the longest. In other words, IT WILL BE SHORT! Not much angst in this chapter, but there will be some. Lots to some standards, but not by mine.

Review (thankyou all!) Replies:

Wave Singer: I'm glad you love my story! Your review really brightened my day!

Lelyn Black: Thankyou! And I will try to get more done as time passes on! High school is TOUGH!

gothic-ember: It made you cry? I'm glad! I hope this chapter will provoke more emotions in you! There will be some fluffiness (don't worry not much) and some evilness, also angst... enjoy!

Spirit-06: Hey my dear dear friend! Your review was TOO SHORT!(don't worry, other readers, I don't diss. I know this person) GRR! LOL. Just kidding, don't flame me!

teenagetomboy69: Thank you very much! And yes, there will be some semblance of fluffiness between sess and kag... don't worry, it is inevitable...lol. Cheers!

Media Miner Replies:

DarklessVasion: Yay! My loved reviewer! I'm glad you find Kagome to be very rawly emotional in the last chapter, I made her that way. I'm glad you like my villains too! There's gonna be some angst on their part, a little... (wink) Yep! You saw it! I saw it! We ALL saw it! A little fond regard! YES! HERE COMES THE SPRING!

MikoSnow GodessMe: I'm glad you appreciated my half-asked attempt to tell everyone on Ffnet about my chapter being on mmorg! As you know, I couldn't upload it, what a terrible thing it was. Thank you for dropping by the site and leaving a review! Hugs!

Mystic Hanyou: Ah, yes. I am full of unexpected surprises! MUHAHAHAHA! I was leading you all along, making you think that Inuyasha wrote it...boy were you wrong! Heh heh heh. Sesshoumaru's stoic facade is slipping a bit, not much, but it's coming off!

SingleSpark replies:

Kylwyn: Yeah! You must have it tougher and colder over there... no stupid hills or trees to break the stupid wind's power. Well, Canada rocks! So that totally makes up for the coldness! I'm glad you like my story! Keep reviewing! It makes me happy!

TaiYoukai: You're one of my favorite authors now (I read your fics! SO GOOD!) so I'm so glad you like my story! Thank you for noticing the characterization of Sesshoumaru! I try really hard not to break his character!

Lady Ice: Thanks for liking my story! I try really hard not to do spelling mistakes (and I am the queen of typos) so I'm glad you didn't find any! I'm glad you gave me a "wow", cause I don't get a lot of those. I get "your story is amazing" and "that's freakin' sweet", but not many "wow's". So I'm super glad! I did have fun writing this, though it did take a while on other sites. A few month's hiatus, actually. So keep reading and keep reviewing, it makes my day!

Disclaimer: Nope. Don't own a thing. Inu Yasha is owned by its talented author, Viz, and a lot of other big scary companies, but not me. So if you try and sue me, I'll poke you with a fork!

Part II: Spring

Sesshoumaru stood in the glowing morning light, all his silver features burned into gold, his carapace fastened tightly over his boredom as he stared out at a slurred world. The rain had started weeks before; it had cleansed away the snow from the eaves of the forest, creating rivers of icy melt laced with debris. The sun now shone, a blinding eye in a sky overfull with rain. The sky carried a lid of storm clouds as the sun boiled the water away.

The taiyoukai felt a chill in the air, an exchange of warm and cold winds that danced circles in his hair. Spring, however early, had come; it brought its cleansing scent with the wind, with the rain, with the earth as it thawed. The human miko's scent grew stranger with every brilliant day that passed, and the irksome fact that he could not place the difference stained a mood behind his beautiful mask.

Birds began to call softly as the sun rose ever higher, the violet of dawn lost in the cerulean that eclipsed before it. His lips parted, fangs glinting in the light. A demon, hungry, that glowed with the dawn. The light splintered over his teeth, reflecting his blood lust in red eyes. Then, in the midst of starving want, came a voice like the coo of a dove.

"Sesshoumaru-sama?"

The Taiyoukai bit back his fangs, folding his aura into himself, closing his lips firmly over his teeth. "Ningen."

She still clutched the Tetsusaiga to her breast, wary of him, though she was different, now, somehow: was there a glimmer of trust in her eyes? No. There was no trust, just the loneliness of the chasm between them. Their gazes mixed, and held, before her blood rushed to her face and she lifted her gaze away.

"Foolish miko, foolish onna," the youkai whispered, "to think you could stand in presence of a youkai without any fear."

She seemed unsure of herself, an emotion among many others that he had never known. "I _am_ afraid."

There was the faint glimmer of contempt in the youkai's eyes, a smirk about his lips, before he turned his radiance towards the sun and the expression melted away in the pale heat. "You are not. I would have sensed it- it would diminish you in the presence of this Sesshoumaru."

"I am frightened," she insisted, some of her old dead stubbornness returning in her chin as she clutched the weapon tighter to herself. He turned the coolness of his eyes onto her face. A pretty one, for a ningen, but not holding any of the beauty that he knew was in him.

He reached out an elegant hand towards her face, but dropped it to hover over the hilt of the sword that had commanded his lusts for years. Even now, its aura repelled him, as did the aura of the miko who held it. She curved her body around the blade, taking a few steps backward, throwing her face into the rainy shadows of the trees.

"No," he said, a sliver of firmness entering his voice, keeping his eyes on her as she went much farther. Suddenly, he caught her hand in his, and it was then that he smelled the fear again.

The foolish girl tried to rip her hand out of his grasp. Her hand, so full of the clumsiness of mortality, trapped between his elegant fingers. He nearly smirked, feeling the rush of power that came to him; soon, the desire to squeeze and to hurt became overwhelming.

Kagome could sense this, feeling his death-dealing hands tense upon her skin, the snarl play about his lips. She could feel the fear building up in her, knowing that her bones were fragile- she was fragile, and she could snap underneath his pressure.

"I could break you right now,"he murmured, almost a seduction. He squeezed her hand harder, so that her face was marred with a wince. "I could tear you to pieces."

She lifted her eyes to his face, hand tensed in between claws.

She opened her mouth, a beautiful parting of lips.

"I know," came the whisper, absent of fear, heavy with feeling. "And I am not afraid."

She squeezed his hand, capturing it in between both of hers and the sword. Their auras mixed and warred, for they were forever worlds apart.

The sun goldened them both, and they watched it rise further into a spring-blue canopy, breaking the silence of forever, breaking through gentle rains. Sesshoumaru did not reclaim his hand, and instead captured her frame with his arms. He tightened his hold around her, in case she would fade away. In his caress, she was fragile, and human, and close to death, for she was truly never very far away.

Kagome found herself trapped in the arms of a monster- silver and gold, and lovely. He was always lovely.

His embrace was cold, fake, and yet she did not deserve it.

Oh, what a dangerous path she traveled- to love all, but loved not.

For it was clear he did not love her. Then why did he hold her?

888888888888888888888888888888

In a field of long grasses and bright flowers, Rin played and sang. Butterflies, with wings of every possible shade and hue, circled her footsteps and movements. She giggled with delight as they landed upon her face and arms. Her lord was watching, and under the golden gaze she felt safe; she hoped he was proud.

Lady Kagome kept her distance from her lord, and Rin knew it was a distance that was very shy. Also, that old sword never left Kagome's side- even when Kagome played with Rin, smiling empty smiles, that sword remained, fastened to her kimono. Jaken never took curious eyes off of it, or off of the miko.

Rin was disheartened that Kagome would not laugh, not even when Rin tripped on purpose and made faces. Kagome stared out into the sky, framed by branches dusted with flower buds of cherry. She breathed deeply, a gasp, and watched tears fall onto the cupped flower in her hand. She was beautiful, reflected with admiration in the chocolate-coloured eyes of the little girl, so pretty that Rin had to reach out and grasp a rough corner of her kimono. She did this very gently, very slowly, as if afraid that she might crumble to dust in the palm of her hand.

Then, Lady Kagome turned her face to the little girl, and there bloomed upon the pink mouth a glorious smile that made the girl gasp, confused and surprised. For how could someone who was weeping so deeply be able to smile so radiantly?

She was so surprised, she called quickly and loudly for her lord.

When he came, he came framed with blossoms, soft, cool words curling out from his mouth. "Why do you call, Rin?"

"Sesshoumaru-sama!" she murmured delightedly. "Look at how Lady Kagome smiles!"

And so the golden eyes came to rest upon the smile that a miko was trying very hard to hide behind a hand. Almost angered, the Taiyoukai tugged the hand away, and saw something he had never seen upon her human face.

Something made him feel extremely perplexed. Something hot, burning in his chest like a wound. A scowl, barely formed, bloomed across his face, and he turned towards the fragrant shade and moved away, pink darting across his silver shadow.

8888888888888888888888888888

The cool red eyes of a monster gleamed in the deep fragrance of a spring night. Crickets breathed somewhere, but were quickly silenced by the deep malevolence of this place.

Naraku cradled in one arm, breathing softly and unevenly, his son, who was mangled by the evil sword of a mighty Taiyoukai. Naraku stroked his black hair, sweeping sweaty hair back from his eyes, murmuring his name absently. _"Hitsumaru..."_

His brother sat upon his feet, hands clenched in his lap, eyes downcast while bloody tears fell from them. These stains fell upon his hands, which clenched all the harder.

The wind witch, Kagura, stood in the darkest corner of the room, the moon's light silvering her profile. She held a fan to her lips, tapping against their cherry-coloured softness. Kanna sat against a wall, colourless and silent.

"My son is dying." Naraku said without emotion, though his other son gasped and bit his lip hard. Hitsumaru clenched the fabric of his father's clothes, his blood seeping through the white of his own, his eyelashes fluttering on the brink of wakefulness. Naraku crushed his son against his chest, whispering a promise in his ear. "Do not worry, my child; you will breathe again, you will see again. You will come from the womb of a miko woman, tearing her from the inside out."

Naraku ran a finger along the side of his dying child's cool face, along his fluttering eyelids. "For you are destined for far greater things."

At these words, Naraku kissed his child's face, and swallowed him back into the chasm that was himself. Tsusimaru cried out as the ravenous devouring occurred, covering his mouth. Soon, there was nothing left of his brother save a memory, and a burning hate deep inside. Naraku sat languidly, full after wolfing down a meal, and watched his only son with red eyes.

He watched as his son's eyes narrowed, and his hands shook as he bent under the weight of sorrow. He clenched the skin over where his heart would have been, beads of sweat gleaming upon his forehead and among his midnight hair like stars.

_"The Taiyoukai,"_ he heard his son whisper harshly, unbearable rage straining his words, "_will_ _pay harshly for what he has done!"_

And the beauty in black stood, his eyes burning with the red fires of hate, and stalked like a panther towards the night, sword in hand. The fragrance of cherry blossoms followed him, petals falling in the deep silence of a high moon.


	10. The Blossom Wind revised

New: I edited this chapter recently because, re-reading it, I found that some parts did not fit. Like the colour and shadow, for example. Aha. Some reviews have opened my eyes to that. Yeah. Embarassing. Sorry to those who liked the idea, but you'll find now that Kagome is tied to him in some other way...Muaha. I really am sorry. This has been bothering me for days. I've been smacking my head, chanting "baka, bakashii," over and over. Bear with me, this IS a work in progress. So some bits will change to fit the original story idea. Some ideas pop into my head randomly, and the one that Sesshoumaru keeps Kagome's colour and shadow in his sword was an AWFUL one. So, this chapter should be re-read before reading others. Thanks.

Reviews:

I would like to thank all of you who have reviewed tremendously, and for support in all of the three sites I have posted this slow-updating story in. I know that I usually put personal answers to all your reviews, and I promise I will be able to next chapter, but right now I am completely whomped with creativity and also frustration, for I cannot seem to get this thing going. Aw well, I'm sure that now because it's summer I can write more. Anyhoo, I love you all very much for your generous support, and I will reply to those reviews next chapter, I'm just feeling delightfully lazy right now.

Thankyou Oh So Much,

Kermit.

Disclaimer: Nope. Don't own. So, please don't sue! The threats of former chapters still do stand... MUHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Vocabulary:

Onegai: Please

Ok. All set? Let's go...

Chapter 10

The Blossom Wind (Revised)

Kagome walked behind him, the youkai who had embraced her once, with head bowed down and arms hugging the Tetsusaiga close to her beating heart. She felt, deep inside of her, a kind of slithering apprehensiveness; she felt that by holding the weapon close to her she could ward them away.

She felt, almost with a deep guilt, that by holding the weapon he so desired he would come and hold her again, reaching out to the hilt of the blade. She imagined him touching her face, her lips, and covering them with his own.

These fancies dissolved in a wave of unbearable sorrow, enough to buckle her knees beneath her, enough to make her eyes raise to sky as if searching for her dead love's face. That love, who had died never loving her in return, only loving her to protect that little flicker of Kikyou that still lived without the clay shadows of death.

Spring blew across her face, bringing with it budding light and showers of pink sakura, blowing about her as though in a dance. Was she free, or did she belong to this Taiyoukai, whose silver beauty was threaded with the blushing pink of cherry blossom?

She observed him closely, watching the long silver river of his hair, the sure steps he took, ones that crushed petals underneath. She had fled from him once, and he had captured her back into his cold, emotionless care. She watched him, wishing to breach the cold distance with a warm hand. There was something in the stiffness of his shoulders, the straightness of his posture, that made him seem completely alone.

Should she run from him? Should she wait until he slept, or until he was wounded, so he could not chase her? Should she wound him herself?

She had the Tetsusaiga still gripped firmly between her shaking hands...

When she had wounded him, she could run back to Sango, to Miroku, to Shippou- it was strange how little she thought of them, only feeling concern over herself and her mourning. How did they survive, never knowing that one they loved so generously, and had died in front of their eyes, was indeed alive?

She needed to see them. She needed to tell them that she lived, that she could never begin to understand their pain, their loss, their anger and confusion at them seeing her with Sesshoumaru, their dangerous foe.

Kagome knew that she should have died as she was destined, as she was fated. She was now like Kikyou, who avoided death until it was thrust painfully upon her. She was becoming the thing, the person she had once despised in jealousy, the pitiful creature who wandered and clung to life desperately.

Yet, Kagome had never known a spring so beautiful, nor days so bright. Something had opened her eyes, widening them, and told them to remember everything they saw. When she felt the wind blow through her, it seemed to carry away all of her troubles, and stir the long shadows of the surrounding trees into dappled and sweet sunlight. When the wind blew through her, she forgot about her desire to wound Sesshoumaru. How could she think of hurting anyone? That was a thought that could lead her to a life that was empty and full of sorrow; the life of an undead clay woman.

So, for now, she would breathe in deeply the light of the sun, which resided in her chest, burning all darkness away. She had cried so hard and so long for the memory of Inu Yasha; so long that she had forgotten what it was like to lift her head towards the distant sky, smile, and just exist. It was sweet absolution.

Her inky hair swirled with the wildness of the wind. Soon, in their walking, Rin complained of hunger, and Kagome realized she was hungry as well, nearly starving. How long had it been since she had last eaten?

Ah-Un's thundering footsteps slowed as Rin leapt off, running to the side of the path and disappearing into the surrounding vegetation. Kagome decided it was high time that she follow her, so she disappeared into the leafy shadows as well, using a hand to brush a low-hanging blossom branch out of her way. Petals dotted her onyx scalp, brushing against her ears.

"Rin-kun!" She called softly into the fragrant shade, trying to gain the unseen girl's attention- she was probably not very far away. "Rin!"

Kagome found the girl digging in the underbrush, perhaps searching for soft mushrooms growing in the fragrant and ancient decay. She knelt beside the child, whose hands and nails were already covered with dirt. Rin grinned at her, holding out the white swelling head of a mushroom.

"Not as pretty as flowers," Rin remarked, dropping some of the fungus into Kagome's hands, "but they taste better."

Kagome nodded and rewarded the girl's generosity with a smile. Rin smiled in return, pleased as Kagome began to eat the offering.

888888888888

_The dark shadow moved in the forest, flitting between the bending boughs of the trees. The daylight glinted softly over dark, rich fabric before the youkai retreated into shadows, eyes glinting red with rage. _

_He was coming, coming to take everything that the Taiyoukai ever knew. _

_He was coming, coming to take everything that the Taiyoukai ever loved. _

_For he was alone for once in his short life, and he could feel keenly the bite of it. The Taiyoukai would die for killing his brother, for ever thinking he was worthy to spill his blood._

_He was coming, swift as a tide, for the child. _

888888888888

The miko returned to him, inevitable as the returning sun, with her hunger sated and the sweet scent of her energy restored. With the wind blowing through is long hair, he turned his attention back to the path and began his graceful walk, hearing the others follow behind him. Jaken's complaints were not lost to his keen hearing, but he chose to ignore them.

"We approach a village," he said softly and forcefully, the stink of many humans in one place reaching his senses. Soon, the forest thinned out before them, opening out to glistening, hot, wet fields of rice- and the people who cultivated them. The path stretched onwards, past their halted feet, and then to a large village, were loud sounds of mortal life could be heard.

"Sesshoumaru-sama?" Called Jaken, apprehension plain on his features. "Should we give this village of filth a wide berth?"

The Taiyoukai did not turn to face him, even when the thundering steps of Ah-Un slowed and stopped. He was looking into the eager, almost wistful face of the miko, whose eyes looked past him and to her own kind. She met his piercing gaze, blushed, and turned her brown eyes to the ground.

Rin leapt from Ah-Un and clutched the hem of the miko's rough kimono. "Kagome-san wants to see, Sesshoumaru-sama," she said, a pleading look in her eyes. "Onegai?"

"Hai," he said without a passing breath of feeling, turning and stepping onto the path with his graceful feet.

Kagome's feet began to ache, rubbing against a stone in her shoe, and so she climbed onto Ah-Un's back, holding Rin around the waist.

Her eyes were wide and eager, and she knew her heart was brimming with excitement. To see humans older than she, younger than she; to see their humble homes again. She knew that the tiny moments they would spend would be more than he could stand; he detested ningen, especially if they were close together, living in each other's filth.

Soon, they passed a woman, who cried out in surprise, dropping her jug of water onto the beaten path. She watched as they passed, watching the beautiful silver youkai, whose cool amber eyes stared off into the distance and never lowered. But soon, they slid to Kagome, and there they remained.

Rin's eyes flitted around her eagerly, taking in the sight hungrily, ignoring the cruel stares of the village people. How long has it been since she had last seen such light, such bustle, a human at all?

Other villagers began to gather, and whisper amongst themselves, clutching blunt objects to use as weapons if the Taiyoukai chose to attack. Kagome believed this to be unnecessary. She knew that if Sesshoumaru had wished to attack this large village, it would be in ruins by the first moment they set a foot inside.

Kagome soon realized they were looking at her and Rin as well, and murmuring softly. She shivered, seeing the firm and hostile hate in their eyes. Their faces, already slightly darkened by the spring sun, seemed to swim before her vision. Soon, she realized salty tears were building up in her eyes. Why did they stare at her and Rin with such cruelty?

A crystal tear splashed shimmering on her wrist, and she examined it closely, her heart cloaked in despair. Then, opening her eyes wide, she knew the reason.

"That woman is with a dirty _youkai_," she heard one woman whisper, pulling her son behind her legs. "She is his bitch, most likely. His whore." A thick fear and hostility was upon her face, one that made Kagome's heart beat like a thousand footsteps upon an echoing path. She buried her face in her hands, trying to block out the murmurs she could hear; the curses against her, the praying, the glares and looks of awe and reverence.

Was this Sesshoumaru's punishment? Did he know that her own kind would never accept her again for seeing her with him, and therefore allow her to feel this grief? She longed for him to stop this madness, to tell them that she was not his, that she did not love him, that she only walked with him because of the sword that had betrayed her to his hands.

Through the village they passed, like shadows, until the turbulent murmurs subsided everywhere save in her mind.

Kagome shivered, rubbing her wrist absentmindedly. _My skin is so pale. It is as though I am still dead..._

Rin touched her face, brushing against her hands, lifting them free so that her face soaked up the sunshine, reflecting the pain of lamentation. Rin bowed her head to her, remorse upon her features, before kissing Kagome lightly upon the cheek. "Gomen, Kagome-san! You needed to learn."

Kagome swallowed her tears, meeting Rin's eyes, framed by her hands. Rin smiled sadly. "I needed to learn what, Rin-kun?"

Rin touched her hand, softly smiling, the other to her heart. This gesture, too old for her, cast a further innocence about her frame.

"That you love Sesshoumaru-sama, Kagome-nee-san... like Rin does."

Those amber eyes were burning her pale flesh. She could not bear to look up, to see their intensity, to see the triumph inside them that must surely be. She had become, in a fashion, kikyou- loving the thing her kind set out to destroy. He had known all along that she could not bear to ever leave him, and would never run away.

He knew he had her heart, trapped in between his reaching claws.

And he did not care.

888888888888

"Sango, come," cried Miroku, voice eager. Sango, cuddling Kirara to her chest, raised red eyes to the houshi, and wearily raised herself to her feet, leaving the neko mononoke with the sleepy Shippou, who raised his tired eyes only once to her frame. They had stopped at a large village, one that was filled with a prosperous people, and they had accepted their generous offering of lodgings for a blessing.

Sango had wearily declined any food, drinking her fill of water and gathering provisions. Through cold and then heat, she had persevered. She now needed to sleep, to build up her strength for the next endless day of searching. Now, standing next to her houshi, her nose filled with the scent of homely herbs and her eyes gazing upon the slightly-creased face of a plain woman who was this village's miko, she heard news that wrenched her heart.

"A terrible and beautiful demon, with his followers, came striding down the path this morning. In fear, I dropped the water I gathered. But it was not the youkai which bothered me so."

Sango shifted, anxious, hopeful. Miroku gave her a warning look. "And what disturbed you?" He asked, very gently, gripping the Shakujou, which clattered softly against itself.

"It was the onna with him, upon his large and strange mount. You should have seen her. She was beautiful! She was as pale as the moon, as ghostly, her soft eyes filled with sorrow. She had the air of once being full of life, though had it suddenly torn away. Even though dressed in rough clothes, her beauty shone with clarity as she held a child in her arms. She was the moon itself!"

Sango and Miroku exchanged glances, which sped up their hearts in excitement. But, it could not possibly be...

"That is not all, strong taijiya, blessed houshi. Even though it was muted, she had the look and feel of a miko about her. Perhaps it was muted because she was the youkai's mate..."

Sango reached forwards and gripped the front of the miko's kimono roughly, pulling her face close to hers. "You lie," she growled softly. From where they sat, Kirara and Shippou looked on in surprise.

The miko woman's eyes took on a steely glint, pushing her away. "I would never lie. Ever! That would dishonour me." The woman left quickly, scuttling away in her rough sandals, sending Sango glares over her shoulder. Miroku did a quick blessing, to pay for the food that was given to them.

Sango began gathering their things, hoisting the packages of food that were given to them, lifting the Hiraikotsu upon her back.

The houshi hurried behind her, hindering her. "Sango-san, we must not jump to conclusions. We have to wait and see what happens. It could be Kikyou she saw."

"I found Kikyou. She was dead, you remember? Killed ruthlessly by Naraku. "

Miroku seemed almost angry, recalling that frigid night when they found and buried the clay remains, praying over them for Kagome's safe return. "Yes, I do remember. But Kagome was killed by Inu Yasha, and we saw it with our very own eyes..."

"I know it was Kagome, Miroku. I _know _it. Her presence lingers here."

Miroku touched her face, kissing her newly shed tears. Sango gasped with the action, but soon the moment was gone, as though it had never occurred. "Is it knowledge that makes you believe her presence is here," Miroku said, softly, sternly. "Or is it a wish?"

888888888888

_He was close. He groaned with longing inside himself, nearly tasting the blood that soon was to come to him. _

_He could taste the young, untainted blood of the child._

_He could taste the sweet, pure blood of the miko, who was soon to be his and his alone. Then he fell back into the shadows, in the midst of hollow want. _


	11. In Crimson Memory

Hello! Sorry for the delay in updating- this chapter was long and hard to write. It has some sad gore in it, if that can serve as an explanation.

IF YOU HAVE NOT YET DONE SO, RE-READ THE REVISED VERSION OF CHAPTER 10. OTHERWISE, THINGS WILL GET CONFUSING!

Okay, I got so many reviews for the last chapter! Thank you all! Love everyone for their support, and even their criticism. All's good, all's good. I appreciate criticism too, for how else am I to grow?

Ffnet reviewers:I heard that ffnet's going to have a spazz attack and freeze people if they reply to reviews on ffnet. I thank all of you for your reviews and your praise(and there was a lot) but I don't want my account frozen. So you can find your replies on my xanga site, and there is a link in my profile.

Single Spark Reviewers: Thanks for all your love and praise! Your replies are not quite done, but eventually they will be on my xanga site: if the url is not in my profile email me. Thanks!

Disclaimer: Nope! Thought you know by now. I don't own a thing...

In Crimson Memory

Kagura's fan spread wide, bringing the world of the dead to her feet in a single command. Her red lips smiled, relishing this brief, fleeting moment of power, of control, of freedom. _He tells me to destroy this village in the Taiyoukai's path; yet he does not tell me how or why. And in this destruction I may find my absolution._

Her dark father's plans were in effect perfectly; her brother was mad, tearing up the spring landscape in search of revenge, blind to the fact that it was Naraku who brought his twin's life to an end, gobbling him back into his dark soul.

That fool. He unknowingly went along with Naraku's plans, a tool like all the rest. He would destroy the child, and bring the miko as a prize to Naraku, as she believed would occur.

Oh, how would she laugh when she saw Naraku's corpse beneath the moon, his blood sprinkled on the smooth face of a taiyoukai enraged.

She smiled, the venom of it lost in the empty landscape. _And then I will be free._

She lifted herself, cupped in the ivory softness of her feather, into the darkness of the sky to wait.

888888888888

Rin sang loudly and brightly as she ran in the field, scooping up flowers, blowing seeds into clouds of flurried white. Kagome smiled softly, her heart full at the sight of this child, at this untroubled innocence. The girl giggled, capturing her hand in her own, pulling her along so fast that she stumbled over hidden stones. They stopped, deep in the sea of swaying grasses, the heat of noon pressing down upon them.

Rin panted, her healthy lungs tired and fighting for breath from running, laughing, stumbling."You wanted to find a place to bathe...Kagome...san...?"

"Hai, Rin. Where- where is this place?"

Rin began to run once more, yet not before bending, picking a flower and tugging it behind Kagome's ear. She smiled."Close...soon..."

Rin captured her hand, pulling her along, following the sweet sounds of flowing water, falling like music upon the air. Kagome's hair swung in the wind like dark folds of silk.

They came upon the swift river, light blooming off of its surface, along with her softly glowing reflection. The water swept away in a wash of foam, tumbling over stones and dancing like a breath.

She thanked Rin with a smile, slipped her kimono off of her skin, and slipped into the swaying reeds and water of the bank. The water was still frigid, too swift to warm beneath the spring sun, and so she splashed water onto her skin quickly, scrubbing off sweat and dirt.

She sank beneath the water, letting it fill her, letting it drown the constant ache that was her heart, pounding over loss- and a love that was dangerous, was one-sided, was forced from her by the blade of a sword.

A quiet howl of despair fell from her mouth. Rin, humming upon the shore, seemed not to hear. _I do not want to love him. I love..._

She closed her eyes, eyelashes brushing her cheeks. _I love him. He does not love me..._

He gave her life, pulled her out of darkness, helped her from drowning in sorrow and guilt. His cold eyes, his silver skin and hair, as beautiful as the moon. And she, the one who carried his beloved sword, was nothing but a human to him, harbouring a quiet love of him in her heart. He was distant, as distant to her as the sea, as deep, as and featureless.

She could not bear to understand the turbulence of this demon, the flatness of his eyes.

And for that, she was doomed, forever loving this distant, troubled, solitary one. Her heart was forever doomed to love someone she could never have.

The Taiyoukai knew of her love; and he was cruel.

She was dead. She had been killed, her destiny fulfilled. She need not be here now, living on a tattered existence, torn of all of her innocence.

She deserved to die for her final betrayal of Inu Yasha; loving the brother he hated deeply.

Kagome stood and slipped on her kimono, letting its hem trail in the water. She made to move to the shore, but her feet caught and slipped on rocks beneath her, and suddenly she found herself pulled under, silver bubbles gasping forth from her lips. The tide swirled around her, the sun blue-white, glowing through the current. She faintly heard Rin's voice, calling her name with desperate, shrieking strength.

She did not struggle. She let the water pull her, the river tugging upon her hair, upon the rough fabric of her kimono, and pressing against her lungs. She was trapped, bound, in pain- full of peace.

The air sang out from her, her vision blurring. Anguish bloomed from her chest, making her heart pound with panic, with feral fear. She clawed at the deep world around her, attempting to break to the surface, to emerge into her own element...

An embrace closed around her, pulling her back into life, filling her lungs with sudden air. She gasped and coughed, weak with relief, frail with dizziness. Her eyes drifted, relishing in the feel of life returning to her cold skin, unaware of who held her.

Her head was held gently, cradled in an arm, as she drifted in and out of consciousness. The light of the sun was so very bright, Rin's voice so very loud in her ears, the strong arms so tight around her, constricting her limbs, pressing her cheek to hard armour. Silver hair drifted into her face, filling her with his scent.

His voice was so deep, so invading, so cold, that she felt it through her ribs. "Foolish miko, foolish onna."

She felt tears overwhelm her, and she closed her eyes to the sight of the youkai who gleamed like a second sun.

888888888888

_Closer, ever closer to the center of all pain. Close to the Taiyoukai who had caused his brother's death. And there, alone in a field of blinding colour, the little singing girl he loved. _

_His starving claws reached out, blurred with rage and revenge..._

888888888888

The scent of death had brought him, had told him to leave his retainer, his ward and his miko behind in safety. It had told him to come alone into this smouldering chaos.

Sesshoumaru stood in the center of a fallen world, his sword of destruction bare and gleaming at his side like a moon. The village, black and crumbled, bared its wooden bones, dark fingers pointing into the open celestial.

Sesshoumaru could sense Kagura's presence, a cloying, fragrant mist that sickened and swam. It choked in his lungs, it burned his flesh; it _angered_ him.

For in the core of her undeniably female scent there was the dark spoil of Naraku.

In a blur of wind, she came to him, her fan spread wide, dead villagers bowed around her, clutching her kimono. In her eyes there burned something rare and strange to him. Adoration, or cunning?

"Kagura," he acknowledged, barely sparing her a glance; something had curled in his feral soul: suspicion. Something burned upon the wind.

Her smile curled."Sesshoumaru- I will find victory tonight, for I will see you despair."

"It will be Naraku's victory," he told her, "for you are his."

Kagura laughed, not falling for his insult, eyes empty, almost full of sorrow. Her wind sent his silver hair to drift. "You are also his," she replied, "we are all his. For you have played right into his cold hands."

His sword gleamed, bright and hungry. His eyes flooded briefly with a blinding red.

"Naraku's barrier surrounds us now," the wind-witch said, "and it will be sufficient to trap you for a time."

She let her fan fall, and the wind died around them; the dead fell to the earth with rotting flesh and maggot eyes. The Taiyoukai's eyes blazed, a rage blood-deep filling them with violence.

Her feather cupped her softly and rose her into the sky, her voice carrying like perfume. "Where is your child, Sesshoumaru? Where is the woman that loves you?"

A howl burned quiet, unspoken and dark in his throat.

888888888888

Kagome felt as though she could burst into laughter, into song, into tears. She caressed gently a flower upon her palm, accepted wholeheartedly from Rinwho had been concerned to the point of large, childish tears.

Jaken had scolded her foolishness, had sat wearily in the grass far away from her, had dealt with Rin. He had sent her a scalding glare.

She had nearly drowned. She had felt the pressure of the river pulse against her lungs, enough to trap her helpless limbs. And he, so cruelly, had saved her.

_I am useless,_ she scoffed. She rubbed her hands together, crushing the bloom ruthlessly.

She whispered to the torn petals,"I am...afraid."

Her murmur passed into silence, unheard by Rin, who had bent to smell a particular bloom, her eyes full of delight and childish wonder.

A shadow moved, red eyes full of dull bloody flame, stretching its destruction across the fragrant grass.

Kagome was frozen, stiff with fear, with panic; her lips moved desperately to find the words of her warning.

_"Rin...run...RUN!"_

She saw Tsusimaru's eyes glimmer, bright, lustful. His claws tore at the child's chest, his fingers digging, searching. Rin screamed, her blood blooming over the front of her kimono as her form spread broken over the grass.

Kagome was soon pinned with despair, crawling over to the child who lay whimpering, grass coarse under her fingers. Tsusimaru's feet, stained red, came into her vision. She looked up into the blinding sun, seeing his crazed and narrowed eyes, drops on blood sprinkled upon his features, which were hard with despair. "Miko," he growled, and his blade shone brightly in his hands. It sliced her chest and her kimono, a deep gash that began from her belly.

She cried out softly, her arms closing around the child, who seemed the only thing that mattered, more precious than her pain. She cried bitterly, her tears falling crystal upon Rin's tiny and labouring body.

Rin whimpered with pain, lying in the grass upon her side, eyes glazed with an empty sigh, with a distant dream. Kagome lay beside her, her blood staining her clothes. She pressed her little hands over Kagome's deep wound, her eyes sorrowful.

"Mama," the girl whispered and smiled, closing her eyes as her brow smoothed in death. Kagome kissed the child's face again and again, calling out her name.

Tsusimaru reached down and plucked the child's heart from her corpse as Kagome's vision began to slowly fade.

His eyes blazed into her own. "Now she will never revive," he told her. And then, "You are quite beautiful in death."

He smiled with some of his old cunning, but it was brief. Then he was gone, leaving her to moan and scream and weep, her arms closed about Rin, who lay shattered and incomplete, without a heart.

888888888888

Kagome floated in the nothing once again, her sorrow as deep as the well.

There was a dark man with crimson eyes, and a voice as deep as providence, deep as longing. He closed his arms about her broken body, his long twisted hair falling upon her face, curtaining the world from her eyes. She could not breathe, nor speak; she could only stare into his eyes, which were the colour of the blood pooled about her.

_"Ka-go-me. Poor little miko. Broken and in pain," _he traced icy fingers over her gash upon her chest, causing her to whimper hoarsely in anguish. _"You will be bound ever closer to me," _his face came close to hers, and his cool palm pressed down over her forehead and eyes. _"You will be mine, and you will forget..."_

Naraku's grip tightened, before she could scream. All was soon lost in a crimson haze of white and wind.

888888888888

The morning was rosy and fragrant, carrying scents mixed upon a breeze. Petals formed a soft blanket beneath her aching skull, beneath the confusion and blankness of her mind. She took a deep, shaking breath. Her lungs filled, labouring, the wounds tightening over her chest.

_Who...who am I..._

She could not understand.

There came memories of silver, a silver man- of warm friendships with a strange boy who would only love a shadow of her. Soon they blazed and were gone.

"I do not know who I am," she lamented, feeling a failure. She burst into laughter, into tears, and attempted to collect the fallen pieces of herself about her, like cloth.

Nothing came.


	12. Village Miko

Sorry for the long wait- lots of stuff happened, such as computer malfunctions and school- but I hope you enjoy this chapter very much.

Grateful for all of you and with all the best wishes and love,

Kermit

Village Miko

_His eyes were aflame, and he was burned in the wild. The barrier around him shimmered, hot under the moon, dissolving beneath the glare of his epic eyes. His prison fell, and he leapt from it, his eyes glowing the red of the setting sky. _

_His roar rang in the wood, a deep toll of bells unheard by anyone. And in the depths of chaos, there came a memory. _

_When Sesshoumaru was young, his childish face telling vivid tales of a beauty yet to come, his father told him to be fierce, to be a Taiyoukai. _

_And in the silver facade of a Taiyoukai, there is no room for love. There is no room for the gentle emotion, no room for care or sympathy._

_All must be cold, as flat as a plain of snow. _

_That is how it must be. _

888888888888

The shell opened her bruised eyes, taking in the thirsty sight of a silver monster, who stood on the edge of her place like an end.

A step into the field, hair blown upon the wind, across red eyes. The ravenous red eyes gleamed like a memory, beckoned to her, burying her inside herself.

She was afraid, desperate to escape his eyes. Those eyes, which told tales of hopelessness, loneliness, rage. Reflecting her in blood.

"What are you?" she asked the creature, burying her sleepy face in her hands. Pain bloomed over her chest, choking her, making her wish to die. There, upon his forehead, bloomed the crescent moon on the brow of the sky.

"You have forgotten," came the cool voice, as soft as water, as soft as earth. It was deadly, that voice; full of emptiness, full of pain, full of hunger. As though the creature suddenly understood, it turned away from her, facing the night of the woods.

Everything blended, tears sprinkled upon her face; and the monster approached her, eyes as cold as the blood all around, blood she did not understand.

888888888888

An old woman passed like a shadow through the trees, taking deep wheezing breaths of air. She attempted to straighten, her back creaking under the heavy bundle she carried.

"Ah! My old bones. What I wouldn't give to drop this burden upon the path!"

After some deliberation, she gave into the complaints of her joints and decided to rest. She dug into her pack with troubled fingers, found some provisions, and broke her fast for the day.

Around her, all was peaceful, threaded with mist and ringing in silence. She blew a white wisp of hair out of her weathered face with a sound that told of air traveling through a husk.

Suddenly, something blew upon her mind, a finger of something distant, and she was on her feet, shouldering her aged bow with ready wariness.

The aged miko could now sense, its aura strong upon the wind, her life-long quarry.

A youkai.

888888888888

_He stepped into the windy clearing, inevitable as dawn. _

_There._

_Lying as though strewn, as though eaten by the wolves from which she had once ran._

_He bent to her side, cradling her empty form softly, gently, lovingly._

_ "Have the wolves caught you, Rin?" He asked, a voice collected, a voice without blame or fear; a sweet irony._

_She was so limp in his caress, her chest an empty cavern, hollow of the heart which she once gave away so freely. He buried his face in her cool cheek, his breath ghosting over her cold skin. _

_Dead. How could that be?_

_The youkai's eyes drifted, and caught upon the girl._

_Her. Kagome. The one who always smelled so sweetly, the one whom he had saved. Her life belonged to him. _

_He was soon above her, that crippled girl whose eyes blazed with empty fear, fear that he both hated and loved. She tried in vain to move away, to escape his sight, but her wounds kept her imprisoned to the earth. _

_She was trapped, broken; he could kill her, crush her throat beneath his foot. _

_Kagome was his._

_His mouth opened softly, rows and rows of feral teeth, ready to rip and tear at her until she was nothing to him._

_Her eyes. So blank, unfocused, afraid, eyes that he knew; eyes that blatantly did not know him. She curled into herself, waiting for the blow to occur, waiting for the death that he could deliver. _

_She would have to wait forever._

_There came, borne out of the dark shadows, the white-hot blaze of purification that stole the careful air from his lungs. He leapt away, eyes still fixed upon the form that he would conquer._

_He choked upon it, the destruction from which he had barely escaped. He stole away, eyes upon the woman, holding the mangled corpse of the child that he loved. _

_His eyes blazed, indomitable and strange; and as he crept away with quick and wondrous stealth, he vowed his bloody revenge. _

888888888888

The shell opened her eyes onto a world she did not know, feeling the sharp numbness of her limbs. She lay upon the hard floor, arms lain stiff at her sides, palms open to the ceiling. A thin blanket covered her, the tip just brushing her lax chin. Her mouth was dry, her tongue thick, and it was painful to take a shuddering breath.

Tight bandages were wrapped over her chest and belly, and it was because of this she moved gingerly; she could not remember the source of the wounds.

_Where...am I?_

In her mind there came the silver flash, that creature, that beast which had approached, eyes glowing like the setting sun, fangs viscous in its mouth. And then, that flare of bright brilliance, of purity, that chased it deep into the dark-fleshed shadows of the wood.

"I see you are awake," came the soft, cracked voice, tinged bloody with concern. Her eyes moved frantically about the room, searching for the owner.

They came to rest upon an old woman, bent over her cooking with gracious care, and she felt her heart grow soft with trust. Through a throat dry and unused, she managed to ask: "where am I?"

"You, my child, are in the Village of the Yoake Mori; I found you wounded in the wood," the old woman's eyes seemed to glare underneath her shaded brow, off into the distance of remembering. "A damned youkai of silver colour wounded you; killed your child."

The wounded girl tried to sit up, bound by the wounds that scraped across her skin, a gasp bursting forth from her mouth- "child?"

Something swam across her face, memory perhaps; tainted with confusion, fear, pain. "I do not have a child."

The old woman saw that the girl eyes burned with fever, with madness. She chased a suspicion and grasped it firmly. "What is your name, girl?"

She closed her eyes, searching desperately in the cliff of her mind, which was as white and as empty as wind. Scattered, broken, disjointed images- petals upon that peaceful, distant plane. "My name... my name is..."

She found herself crying, feeling wicked and useless, and the old woman's arms closed around her as she imagined a mother's would.

"I am the miko of this village," the old woman said softly, though with a voice full of pride, "I have lived and served the people of this village for many of my endless years.

"I do not know what it is like to have and lose a child; I have never carried one myself. My words have no use, I know, yet I am very sorry," She straightened, the girl' tears soaking into the rough fabric of her obi, and began: "I am Fukiko, miko of the Village of Yoake Mori- and I will care for you like a daughter. In you, I have sensed a strong miko power, though untrained. Would you like it, when you heal, to learn with me?"

The girl's eyes became glassy, distant, as she nodded her reply; she lay back onto the pallet, and turned her face to the dreary light of the doorway. Fukiko turned back to her cooking after a time, and was soon engrossed in the work. She almost did not hear the girl's soft words, bleeding over the sound of the rain...

"Onna," she said, "you may call me Onna."

888888888888

_Rin deserved better than to be buried in the dark, deep mud; or swallowed in the eddying, swirly waters, or in the broken, abandoned wooden shrine in which he decided to leave her. _

_He dropped the flower onto the soft mound of wet earth that covered his child, and buried his despair deep into the cold shift of his soul. _

_His bland mask slid into place, a porcelain countenance with hooded eyes, as he chased the scent of Rin's bloody heart and that of the dreaded hanyou's child._

_It seemed as though the rain parted for him, clinging only briefly to the liquid fall of his hair, shimmering upon his smooth face, cool in his red eyes. _

_The ache, the madness of hunger, of fury- a demon's lust for death. _

_It never ended- not even when he had found him, had torn out his heart to match the one he had stolen; not even when the blood splashed beauty over his cheeks, trickling down them like the tears he could never shed. _

_Naraku's child was now dead, retribution for his own. _

888888888888

"Onna," called Fukiko softly, a laugh in her voice, "there is a child here who was injured herself, and she says she will not let anyone dress her wound but you."

Onna carefully parted the soft hanging at the door and stepped out into the soft light of the early morning, bending carefully down to the child's eye-level so as to not damage the miko clothes she wore.

The child was pouting, her face tearful but her gaze trusting. There was something softly, achingly familiar in the way the child's gentle eyes gazed into her own. "See, Onna-san? I fell."

The child held out her small index finger, where a cut bloomed red upon its fleshy tip. Onna smiled knowingly.

"I know the cure for this," she said, giving the girl's finger a kiss. The girl smiled and thanked her shyly, running off to once again play in the field that graced the front of Fukiko's home. In the weeks that she had passed in this peaceful place, she had gained strength and knowledge, and had grown to care very much for the people of the village, who came to see her as though she was a curious, welcome sight.

"How are your wounds, Onna-san?" asked Fukiko, intent upon making arrows and drying herbs. Onna joined her in her task, help which the old woman accepted gratefully.

"They are healing very well, Fukiko-sama."

"That is good! Soon you will be hale enough to begin your training with me. With such knowledge, perhaps then could you catch the demon who has wronged you."

Onna went silent, and the weight of the old woman's words pressed upon her like the heat of the sun through every task she carried out that day.

When the sun set, sending blazes of light across the sky, Fukiko said, a whisper across the threshold, that she had some duties to attend to in the village proper that Onna herself was yet forbidden to help with. She did not complain, for she was weary and the woman snored. She laid to rest just as the full moon graced the tips of the trees, sending rays of dappled moonlight that pooled about her, shadows and liquid light from an opening high in the wall.

There was silence, quiet and soft and deep, nearly choking.

It was then, in that silent moment, that the beautiful, terrible demon breathed the stale air of Fukiko's home, and traced claws upon the hanging of her door.

The demon, stalking its prey.

Fear slipped into her belly, curling and cool and cloying, a mortal trait that froze her heart with its cruelty. She dared not move, dreading that if she did the demon would descend upon her and tear out her throat. She attempted to calm herself into the semblance of sleep; she slowed her breathing, and in turn her heart and body relaxed, falling into the rhythm of slumber.

A step upon the floor, echoing like a beat of a heart. She nearly opened her eyes, to once again see the face that she could not quite remember.

Silence, silence.

She dared not to open her eyes.

He sat gracefully beside where her pallet lay, where her body was breathing in his scent: of blood, of burden, of the wild wood.

His presence pushed into her, nearly pushed her out of herself. she opened her eyes, as narrowly as she could. The pool of moonlight ignited him, made him glow so cunningly, nearly stealing the breath from her.

He bent closer to her, and she closed her eyes, keeping her features loose though they wished to tighten. Hatred of him boiled in her, sheilding something soft that she remembered in her heart.

The silky length of his hair fell over her throat as he traced her jaw with his deadly claws, touching her inky hair to his lips.

He scratched a line upon the skin of her palm. She nearly shivered as she felt the deep whisper, hot against her ear:

"Foolish miko, foolish onna."

With those words as a parting he left her, passing as soft as the night through the hanging that covered the door, and she wept.


	13. The Demon and His Prey

SO SO SO SO SO SORRY! I have been so busy for the past few months, and I have recently started my second semester- so the crap's been piling up. This has been constantly at the back of my mind, however (making me feel like a monster). Thanks to all of you who have patiently waited for this new chapter! I LOVE YOU ALL! cuddles I had a wicked case of writer's block! But I hope what happens in this chapter makes up for it. I will begin replying again to reviews, but for ffnet reviewers only personally (leave email addresses, you guys!) So I don't get waist deep in crap from ffnet.

To a reviewer(sorry, too lazy to look up your name): Yes, there will be a happy ending! (and all you guys will love it)

Tell me what you think of this chapter! (While you're at it, visit my website: w w w. x y e o t h i e m o o n. d e v i a n t a r t. c o m. Just remove the spaces)

The Demon and His Prey

_He remembered. _

_Her tiny body, her soft cheek, the nearly infant smell of her. To him she was infinitely young, and would remain in his mind forever as that- a child, his child. A child that had died at the hands of a monster. _

_He could not help but wonder:_

_If it had been the right moment, the right need, would he have killed her himself?_

_He succumbed to silent, helpless longing, a corruption that did not show on his stony features. The longing, however, did not extend to his dead child, nor for the blood that he had gained in revenge._

_It reached towards, it smothered, it loved the miko that was his; he would not let her forget him, though her mind was stale with its emptiness of him. He would haunt her footsteps, enrich her dreams, partake in her heart. _

_He would never give her rest, for only she could soothe the soreness of mourning, the rage not fully spent, the severed love for a child swallowed by mud. _

_He would taste her skin beneath his lips, he it her cheek or her mouth;he would taste her blood upon his tongue, again and again until she succumbed. _

888888888888

There, in the brilliant monotone of the morning, she once again discovered a routine, one to distract her from the tumultuous rage and blankness of her mind. In the dawn, in the quiet of spring, in which all the peonies whisked their petals out, and the cherry blossoms whispered and glowed their life and death among the trees, she sat in silent contemplation, pausing in the task of the gathering of water from a well.

Above her, the birds did not cease in chaotic tumbling, nor in the haughty announcing of their presence. Beyond that sound was the quiet drip and ripple of the well, and beyond that lay the sweet, tender pain of remembering.

She almost wished to tip into the well, almost knew that the darkness of it would not eat her whole; she almost was certain that a pebble of light would glow at the end of it, like heaven, and a world would open over her head quite different than the world she knew.

It was a foolish game.

In the morning, he would come as well, though he did not come near to her; she could feel the soft, dangerous call of his presence, the beckoning that she would hard to ignore. Sometimes, in her moments of rest, she would catch the glimpse of a face in between the bamboo and the trees, and she would catch her startled breath, unable to tear her eyes away from his until he blended with shadow and pain bloomed in her head.

It was mysterious, her past; somehow she knew she was full of tender pain, a wound only newly closed; if she remembered, the wounds would open once again, and the anguish would shatter her.

She was afraid to remember; she did not want to remember.

In this realisation, she found herself smiling, a sweet smile that blessed her heart and her soft mouth. She carried herself through tasks and training with a careful, tentative happiness that dispelled her pain and sorrow and pondering, even though she could feel his presence at the edge of her mind, and his eyes tear holes in the flesh of her back.

She sometimes wondered if she was dreaming, and that this entire routine, this entire mundane life was something that was merely a passing fancy, a boat crossing the silver river of her mind. Perhaps she had died, merely bones and a tiny seed in the earth, and this was peace, this was heaven: this surety, this serenity that encompassed her like a mother's love. This was a paradise that she had found, one that she was willing to keep; this tiny village beyond the cusp of a stream, where bamboo descended, slender dancers in the blue wind, and reeds parted the water like paddles in the sand.

She smiled, seeing children approach her, faces bright like a train of stars, and stooped to their level beside the polished well.

"Onna-san," they intoned softly, capturing her calloused hands with theirs, pulling her towards the heart of the village, her task abandoned, the field empty. She giggled, then laughed, her voice like a instrument made of cherry wood over the cold field. This voice rang in the empty woods long after she had gone, to be tasted by a demon whose eyes blazed in the green darkness sheltered between the bamboo.

Her scent still drifted upon the wind, human, female, his.

888888888888

She lay silent upon the futon, nestled securely and sweetly tired after her chores of the day; after her playing with the children, her making of flower wreathes and head-dresses, the colours of cherry and blood. One lay beside her head, soft and silent, its colours black in the dull dark, black like blood, black like pain...

_...and she felt his claws rip through her, limpid, shining like demons all and of themselves. She felt her heart breaking, she felt its red flesh tear and go cold..._

She cried out, clutching at her chest as though a wound had opened itself, finding that tears had journeyed, weary travellers, across the features of her face. A strangled sound erupted from her mouth, a barrier broken that had kept the tears from her for so long. Those tears were ancient, those tears were rotten, and she was jaded with them; they had wrung themselves dry, and she would no longer allow herself to feel them- today she had _laughed..._

The elderly miko must have heard her, for she found herself wrapped in her arms, rocked in them and crooned to as though she were a mere child, and Fukiko her mother.

"What did you remember child? Come, you must press it. You must remember- you must live it, know it, for it to finally die."

Yet she could not stop the tears, could not stop the river that had opened and was unfurling itself from her soul- the weeping was so profound, so choking and drowning, so much that her flesh and head burned with the fever of it, and all she could hear was herself crying, around her, within her; the sorrow that made all that she had felt before, in the indistinct soil of her past, petty and foolish and vain.

"I remember... I remember- PAIN," came the gurgled words from a mouth opened in soft anguish, the final word a shriek that shattered her and tore through her throat like fire.

It felt as though it would never end, it could never end; she felt certain that all the celestial could hear it and drew away from her in disgust, heaven denying her at last. She felt as though there was a shred of hatred in every Gods' heart for her, a grain of salt in the centres of immeasurable power and magnitude. They looked down upon the child they had gifted, and their hatred grew, mirroring the dark pool of hatred within herself. She was forsaken, unforgivable, filthy with selfishness and self-rue.

She was trapped in their collective glares, drowning in them, unable to raise her wicked arms and swim; she had no desire to, for there was comfort in this hatred of herself, a safe sanctuary of thorns and blood where she could always reside, secret inside herself.

The tears ended, leaving her hollow and empty and weak, yet fully aware; it was though she had woken from a long sleep into a wilderness where her past no longer mattered, and there was a settled peace to the turbulence, a sea after the turmoil of a storm.

The fire burned low until it was a mere husk, tiny coral crescents in the dark, glowing red into the soft watching almond of her opened eye. She observed the curling, dying smoke crawl to the centre of the flaxen roof, unwinding the cool tendrils of her hair from behind her ears.

Fukiko was now long asleep, an image in the pale light of the half-moon as though carved from stone, carved from death, her features as stoic and as calm as the wax of summer bees.

She was almost afraid that if she were to touch her, her skin would crumble away into dust and onto the butterfly's wing of the wind, leaves into the current, sand upon a beach.

Then his aura enveloped her, urging her, dreamlike, into a sense of flat halcyon, of a pure wistful emotion that lifted her and escorted her onto a path to him, her feet bare and cold against the hard floor, the crisp and fragrant night opening beyond the door hanging like a restful sleep. She left the earthly world of her cabin, of Fukiko sleeping, of sorrow and toil behind, stepping onto a plain of stars, of ebony, of broken, dreamy sighs. She caught sight of his hand, a corner of his sleeve; drifting and silver, blazing silver, like all of him, his soul showing its train through the leaves. She followed him, though in the amber of his eyes there was a starvation that no blood but hers could sate.

Her steps were heavy in the dead silence, in a world frozen, following his remote and lithe frame as he stepped, delicate and powerful, into a darkness beyond her vision. The path began to grow wilder, more uneven, beneath her bare feet, but she was caught in her dream and did not notice. A smile played about her lips as the village became dark and distant behind her, and she, the prey, stepped closer to the beast with no thought or whim of another action.

She was his, and he waited for her as though she was a meal that he could swallow into himself.

There was silence in the clearing as she entered, as though intruding; and he, there, as beautiful as the moon which rose high above him, him bathed in its light, as though he was its king, its god. He wore merely a white kimono, his hard armour hidden somewhere in the wood surrounding them.

He reached out to her with a hand that clawed against her, crushed her against him, as though he could press her into his heart, to be preserved forever, beyond age and death. She sighed, her head tilted, her eyes calm, through his caress burned against her bones, and her ribs heaved with her attempts to breathe.

His mouth hovered over her throat, his teeth brushing as soft as petals against the perfect white of her skin.

_Longing._

The claws dug into the fragile skin of her back, against the bones which were as delicate as a bird's.

He could kill her now, fix her just as she was in his mind forever, open to him and lovely; yet he could never allow her to be swallowed, taken deep into the heart of the mud like his child had.

_"You are mine," _the demon whispered lust into her hair, _"Your love belongs to me..." _

He fitted his mouth over hers, cold and distant, a burning fire erupting into splendour in his being, tasting her, savouring the distant smell of ancient tears, sour words, and felt her fingers, so tiny and fragile, twine themselves to the back of his neck, as cautious as though he was fire which she could smother. The sweetness nearly ached in him, burning and hungry for an infinite forever of her, of more. Their mouths parted, and he watched with blazing eyes as she fell asleep, whispering of love and dreams; and he lifted her, so perfect, into his single arm, and carried her slender frame back to the home, back to the life which did not deserve her.

_What she deserved was all the richness of the wild: combs to adorn her with haughty beauty, kimono to cover her bare skin with patterns of birds, of moons, of waterfalls and rivers- he would give them to her, that which what was her right to take, if only she would succumb to him completely; all this finery mere gifts in exchange for the taste of her skin, for the taste of her blood. _


	14. Of Taiyoukai and Remembrance

Hello all,

I wonder who is still following this story. I have taken a hiatus of four years on it- life piled up around me and just made me stop writing about it. I've started again, but I don't know if it is going to have any sense of regularity in the updates.

The last time I wrote it, I was... fifteen, sixteen. I'm nineteen now, and I've matured significantly, as you can probably tell from my intro here.

I want you all to know that I have been thinking of you. All of you, for four years. I have never stopped feeling guilty about the abandoned story.

For you all, I will finish it.

There's not much left to it, anyway!

P.S: My writing has changed a little, has become less purple-prose, but I will try to emulate it as best as I can.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Inu Yasha. I am poor and an art student and I don't own Inu Yasha.

**The story so far:** Inuyasha, after accidentally killing Kagome in a demon state (provoked by two new Naraku incarnations), brings her to his brother, the taiyoukai Sesshoumaru, so that he can revive her, then crawls off and dies. Kagome is revived, only because of the mysterious message scrawled into the snow beneath the hanyou's dead body, regarding his sword: Only Kagome can. Sesshoumaru's hand is forced, and he revives Kagome without even knowing her name.

Meanwhile, Miroku, Sango and Shippo search for Naraku to avenge their friends.

At the news of Inu Yasha's death, Kagome is horrified and devastated, wondering why Sesshoumaru kept her alive, why she couldn't die. Sesshoumaru does not explain his actions but sets off the get the sword from the hanyou's body, but is sidetracked when confronted by a dying Kikyou and a devastated human village. Kikyou dies, and Kagome's soul is completed.

Kagome runs away from Sesshoumaru one night, sneaking off to find her way back to her friends- and runs into Inu Yasha's body. She grabs the sword, planning to use it somehow on Sesshoumaru if he tried to drag her back to their campsite. Naraku's two incarnations interrupt them, and Kagome's alliegances suddenly shift from Sesshoumaru her enemy, to Sesshoumaru her protector. Sesshoumaru kills one of the incarnations without effort- after discovering that Naraku had written the words "Only Kagome can" in the snow, had placed a trap there to collect her. For what purpose, none knew.

Sesshoumaru saves her from them.

Sesshoumaru begins to ask her why she isn't afraid. She doesn't know.

He embraces her, and neither know why.

Sesshoumaru often says to her: "Foolish miko. Foolish onna." (foolish priestess, foolish woman)

Meanwhile, Naraku pulls the dead incarnation back into himself. His twin is enraged, and seeks revenge.

Sesshoumaru and co. pass through a village, and are wholeheartedly unwelcome there. But this sighting of them allows Miroku, Sango and Shippou to know Kagome is alive. Kagome finds the village as unwelcome as Sesshoumaru, and questions why they went. Rin tells her that Sesshoumaru needed to let her know that she loved him, and would find no solace anywhere else.

Kagome almost drowns, and Sesshoumaru saves her.

Sesshoumaru is attracted by the scent of a murdered village, so goes to investigate. He is trapped there by a barrier, told that at that moment his Rin and his Kagome were being murdered.

Naraku's incarnation murders Rin, takes her heart, stabs Kagome, kills Jaken. Naraku comes to Kagome then, takes her memories, and she doesn't know who she is.

By the time Sesshoumaru is freed, it is too late for either of them. Sesshoumaru leaves her in the field, taking Rin's body with him to bury and then return- he is completely feral. He returns and she is gone. He buries Rin in mud, and kills the one who killed her.

He hunts for Kagome, now.

Kagome is found by an old miko, Fukiko, and since she doesn't know her name, Kagome tells her to call her "Onna".

Kagome becomes an apprentice miko and takes care of the village. She has no idea why the forest watches her, or a beautiful youkai visits her at night, looks at her, leaves.

Sesshoumaru owns Kagome. Not fully in his right mind and ignoring the fire of his grief, he sets out to reclaim her.

Sparks of memory come to Kagome, nothing to fully remember. A youkai calls her one night and she goes to him.

She never goes back to the village.

**Chapter Fourteen: Of Taiyoukai and Remembrance **

Miroku stood at the doorway of the hut, of a home he had just purified, and listened intently to the stories of the man who had begged for assistance- which Miroku had given, readily, at the promise of information.

The old man told of the Taiyoukai of the west, of how he had killed all he had loved and then taken a bride, how they had met under moonlight and had devoured each other. It was a story told with reverence, and Miroku almost dismissed it as a legend.

Until he had talked of the bride's eyes. Until he had talked of her kind words, and soft hands, of how she walked and talked. This was Kagome. All of it, Kagome.

Why did she not seek them out? Why did she stay away?

What had they done to scare away such a beautiful soul?

Sango's tears had stopped; she had put Kagome away in the same space as her brother, life tied to death; however Sango would never admit a loss of hope, would hold on to hope like hands in dirt.

She drove them onward. Shippou missed Kagome dearly; he clung to her memory like it was air; like she was the sun, like she was the only thing holding him, the only thing he knew. Any mention of her would flare such hope in him that it broke him apart whenever it was murdered by news.

Miroku had surmised that Kagome was with Sesshoumaru; at her death, Inu Yasha had gathered her cold body to him and had ran, legs akimbo, blood gushing out of his side, leaving a trail of gore behind him, had not listened when they had shouted after.

Voices, voices, voices in the night, calling for him to bring her back, bring her back so they could bury her, and with her their hopes. He had not listened and he had died, and his body had been found by them only a few days ago, and they had buried his bones and his red clothes and his white hair, and they had mourned for him.

But Kagome had not been there.

"We have to find her, Miroku," Sango said, quietly. They were three of them, the last ones to finish a quest cut short, revenge to take. They had shards, but there were few of them; Naraku had stolen all the rest.

They were weary, weary- their exhaustion scratched against their bones. Their bodies were collapsing- weakening like the charms around his hand, like the hole in his palm. Weariness was threatening to swallow them whole.

"I think," said Miroku, "It is time to visit Sesshoumaru's bride."

888888888888

Naraku waited, waited like the day he was born, deep in a cave, no mother save the demons he had collected to himself like clothes. Flesh, blood, bone- he was made of it all, a twisted form, a cursed animal, a planner and schemer who saw everything come to him.

His body boiled with want. _Soon,_ he told it, and it roiled and undulated, its many parts spread around the room: hungry, dark, glistening, slick_._

The whisper passed from his mouth: "Ka-go-me," and he smiled, every syllable tripping out of his mouth. "I will give you your memories, soon, soon. You will give yourself to me in exchange for them."

Then, when he thought he would fail, and none would go according to his desires, a little girl's heart was brought to him.

His smile was bloody, his smile was great.

888888888888

Rin was mud, Rin was dead, but this woman, _this woman_, had filled all of his senses, filled him up to the brim. His cold heart was bathed in horror over the loss of his little girl, full of guilt, full of _rage_, full of the want of revenge, and he could almost understand his brother. He could almost understand the anger of that filled his entire self. Understand how he had wanted revenge for his years attached to a tree, his years floating in the half-and-half.

He had awoken, now- awoken to anger. The sadness had touched him, brushing soft like feathers over stone, but he could not feel it.

Sesshoumaru knew he was not in his full mind. He did not know what brought him to her, the empty-headed Kagome; made him touch her face and kiss her, despite all the shame and memory of his father doing the same, years ago. He was not himself.

After a few nights of her coming to him, and he wrapping his single arm around her, he had not let her return.

He was not himself.

But he had wanted her none the less, and he was going to have her, forever, in all of his long years; through changing, and growing, she would die, he would revive her, he would pull her out of the earth.

Her life belonged to him. He would dress her in such beautiful kimonos, such wonderful stones pulled fresh out of clams or out of the rock by servants who would paint her lips red. She did not remember him; though he could see flashes of recognition behind her eyes and fed on them.

Sesshoumaru did not love her.

He loved her lips and the way her hands curled around his neck; he loved her hair and how it flowed down over him, how the kimono would part so easily at her collar. He loved how she walked at his side, how she never talked of pain, nor cried, never voiced concern. She would ask him questions that he would choose not to answer, or in answering, grab her; and she would not shy away but she would laugh.

He did not love her.

But she would remember.

"I should be carrying a sword," she would say, staring at her naked hands. Where had that sword gone? Sesshoumaru no longer found any use for it; perhaps it was in the mud with Rin- but no, that girl had been useful, that girl had been kind. She had never been as useless as that sword had been to him.

The memory of her still grated, still ached, and for a few moments a blinding pain, the loss of her, made his vision white. But he pushed it back, deep like a well, letting the consumption of it pass away into silence.

This woman was a distraction. She would be short-lived. She would wrinkle like mountains, her cheek would become like powder, like paper. He would kiss her and she would crumble like bread, like dust.

And he would live on, like he would live on through all of it. He was a lord, a lord of demons, dead by no one's hand.

But for now, for now, they had time. They had time in between the bamboo, under trees, in the water where she had almost drowned.

He did not think in logic; he did not think at all. He thought in snatches of her, in moments with her, empty-headed miko with no memory, no name.

He would take her to his house. He would wed her.

If she became a problem, he would kill her himself.

Though his claws would twitch next to her throat when she held him, they never broke skin; against the white of her flesh they would lie, impotent. There would be no flash of green in them, though every night he vowed to kill her by dawn. When the sun made him golden, and her in his embrace, he would find a reason to keep her; he would always find a reason.

She would smile, memory and full recognition still banished from her eyes, and that would be enough.

She would pull her arms through her sleeves, and that would be enough.

She would breathe, and that would be enough.

He did not love her.

But she would remember.

888888888888

"You housed her," Sango cried, leaning forward from her place on the floor. The old miko nodded sadly, placing bowls of rice in front of her guests. Miroku watched Sango's calloused hands lie flat on the floor, perhaps where Kagome had ate, or walked, or slept. Perhaps the floorboards still held her warmth.

"Miko-sama," Miroku asked, head bowed. "Please tell us what happened to her."

"She was a strange girl. She would stare into nothing, speak in short words; she was in a lot of pain. She said that she would see a man, a demon sometimes, looking at her in flashes in the woods. Every day, she said he came closer and closer. One night, she went to meet him. And a few nights after," she said, sadness breaking her voice, "She never came back home."

Sango leaned forward, flat teeth bared. "This wasn't her home," she spat. "Her home was us."

Miroku did not tell her, as he bowed and retreated and thanked the astonished miko and collected Shippou at the door that she had had another home, a true home, down a well.

But, then again, Kagome had many homes.


	15. In The Mud

What an overwhelming response! Thanks guys! ;)

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Inu Yasha. I own some shoes, a coat, a heart and a brain. But not Inu Yasha.

**Chapter 15: In the Mud**

A handful of mud, another, another, until her hands were caked with it, until her face was covered with it when she pushed unpinned hair from her eyes with the back of a hand.

Kagura's perfect nails were ribbed with mud. She had dug and dug, but he had buried her so deep that her fan had not ripped her body from the ground.

Her hand closed around a small skull, covered in dirty, tangling hair. She dragged.

Like a child falling out of a womb, the small girl's body flopped into her arms. Decay had grabbed at her, some of her flesh left behind in the mud, which Kagura cupped back to the body -Kagura's face did not change to betray her disgust- and pulled a feather from her hair.

Wind swiped at them, cupped them, pulled them to the sky. The night spread out beneath them, above the mud behind them, cracking through the earth.

But there wasn't a _them,_ was there?

Kagura could barely keep her together as she travelled to her hated father. Her skull would loll back her shoulder, as though in sleep; but Kagura knew, Kagura knew that the earth had eaten at her. She was half and half and half.

When in the courtyard of a palace which they had purged of life and in which they had filled themselves to the brim, she passed the body to the arms of a boy with empty eyes.

Together they carried the mud-girl, holding her pieces together between them, carried away into the darkness of the many rooms, towards where the king of rot waited, waited, with shards settling in one hand, a heart in the other.

A kimono was pulled around him, but the rot still surrounded, the mosaic of him was still spread around the room. He reached out his arms to collect the body, and for a moment it was a strange caricature of mother and child.

Kagura wrinkled her nose in disgust when he pushed the heart back into her chest. She had been killed ruthlessly; of that there had been no doubt. She had been killed out of hatred, of vengeance, had been run through and torn apart. This girl had died twice, and none of those times had she been safe, sick in her bed, nor old. Kagura thought disjointedly that she could be the youngest thing she had ever seen.

They were covered in mud, all of them.

And in mud, Kagura witnessed a rebirth.

Naraku pressed a shard into her heart. Everything about her seemed to knit together; her skin pulled back over bones, her body fleshed out, her eyes grew back into sockets, the worms fell away. She was pale pale pale, pale under the mud and the earth and rot-eaten clothes, and Kagura felt a sudden, humourless desire to rip the girl away and bury her again.

888888888888

When she uncurled perfect hands covered in mud she could do nothing but stare at them; she did not register the undulation of movement at her back, nor the fall of long, curled black hair as it tumbled over her shoulder. She stared at her hands.

"Rin," said the demon with red eyes, and she tore her eyes away and looked at him. Her eyes were not child-like; they were dead, and took in all that she saw around her with similar indifference.

Perhaps it came with dying again and again. There were scars along her legs and arms, old, where the wolves had bit her. There is a line over her breast-less chest.

"Do you remember Ka-go-me?" the demon asked, and she nodded. She remembered the girl who smiled only sometimes and ran always and loved demons and loved her, loved her. She could almost feel the forgiving heat of her eyes.

But she could not _feel._

She nodded, slightly, and cast her eyes about the room. There were figures, covered in mud; and a little girl, as short as she, pure white and mirror-clad. In the mirror she could see.

"Do you want to see her?"

She nodded again.

888888888888

Mud was smeared all over the room, drying and flaking, but the red-eyed demon did not want it gone. He said it was be like a marker, like a map. He wants more of it; wants it caked around screens and all over her; he wants footsteps of it running up and down the many floors and many halls and he wanted them quick, he wanted them now.

Rin did not question. She was not Rin.

But everyday she would ask the demon, "Where is Kagome?"

And another name, longer, would sit on her tongue and wait there, but it was never said.

The demon would answer, "You will see her soon," and she believed him.

Her elbows and hands and hair was cracked with mud; dry eddies of it, pooling down her skin, cupped in her collarbone. She did not bathe. She stank of death, of blood.

Her heart pumped so hard and so fast. Sometimes she would push a hand to her chest, to feel it ricochet there, and mud would crack along her knuckles.

Soon her eyes became as blank and as flat as flint.

Soon her heart slowed.

Still she smeared the mud; this time, over trees and down paths, across leaves, across heart.

888888888888

The path under her was worn flat by feet. Her feet chased it down, too, slipper-shod; her kimono traced lines in the dust.

"Onna," intoned a deep voice. She turned back to look upon her lover, upon the long silver hair and striped face she now longed to touch. She smiled, reassuring, to show that she would not run away. She slowed her footsteps, however, looking to the sky, to the bright sun-

_Suddenly there was light and fire and golden eyes and claws through the heart-_

She staggered. Her lover caught her in a single arm.

"I'm..." she murmured, but raised her voice, shakily. "I'm not feeling well..."

She turned her head to the side, something catching her eye.

On one of the trees was the muddy print of a small hand.

She felt the gasp pull threads through her heart; she looked up to see a man in a white pelt and suddenly, suddenly, she was _Kagome_, and he was _Naraku_, and the man she was going to wed was _Sesshoumaru-_

_And everyone, EVERYONE, had died-_

She opened her mouth for a scream, why hadn't Sesshoumaru seen him, why hadn't he, why did he look upon her and nothing else while the demon was there, the demon who started it all was there, _there. _

Her scream sounded once and died in her throat. She turned her head towards the forest, pulled from Sesshoumaru's protective arm and let herself in.

There was a little girl covered with mud.

Rin, _oh_, it was Rin.

"Rin!" Kagome called, and could feel Sesshoumaru tense behind her. She raised her hands in a wave. "Rin!"

But Rin was dead.

888888888888

Miroku, Sango, Shippou, Kirara, they all ran- they heard a scream and knew it was Kagome's throat that had uttered it.

"Miroku, Miroku, we have to save her, please!"

They ran on, ran on, and caught the sight of a demon, silver-coloured, frozen in a path.

888888888888

Her blood ran cold. Her hand dropped.

All the while Rin stood and stared and stared and stared.

"Kagome!" shouted a voice. She turned around, looking at Sesshoumaru tensed to rush forwards and grab her from the jaw of the woods- but it had not been his voice.

She whirled around, once, to see long-lost friends burst onto the scene- and oh, the happiness that rushed through her threatened to crush her throat- but Naraku's hand came up and did it instead.

"You're for me, Ka-go-me," he rasped, and Kagome's fear was so high she couldn't scream.

Someone shouted her name as Naraku pulled her against himself and dragged her into the woods, and Rin climbed on her, smearing mud across her mouth-

The sight of her lover, the sight of her friends- they were gone, disappeared behind leaves, behind coils of black hair.


	16. Ownership

Thank you all for the reviews and the support!

One reviewer asked if I was a professional! No, I'm not, but I hope to be someday! ;)

**Warning:** There is some mature content in this chapter, near the end. If you are young, turn your eyes away! Also, the first word is a swear. But who cares about swears nowadays.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Inu Yasha. Though I like it, very much. :)

**Chapter 16: Ownership**

"FUCK!" Sango screamed, and threw her weapon (all raw power and swish and boom) into the dust; but they were already running, already leaping, already tearing after their friend- and in one case, their bride- like the wind and the rain, and all she could see was the coiled black hair of Naraku, and all she felt was how she wanted to tear it out.

"_Kagome!"_ someone cried, and it did not matter who.

They had had her, they had seen her, and if they had arrived seconds- minutes- before she would be with them still.

They called her name, wildly, running through the woods, branches scratching across their eyes. They ducked again and again, swallowed the pain for their lungs, did not stop for air from exertion, did not stop their feet though they could not run a second longer, did not stop, could not stop, would not stop.

Panic.

The taiyoukai flew ahead, leaving them behind heaving, the sun beating down on the tops of their heads. The priest and the demon-slayer ran on, weapons clutched, searching for any sign far past a human to see and seeing none, they chased the bridegroom's shadow; losing that, they chased the memory of the direction he had gone.

They ran and ran until stumbling, until walking, until crawling; they got up and ran again. They ran until all breath left them. They ran until the moon was full and high.

What drove them onward through wood and field was the memory of Kagome's face, the hope lit in her eyes replaced by terror, and the thought of Naraku's hands encircling her throat.

They felt that they were all that was left to save her; for their red-clothed friend had died, and had left them with her care.

They would not fail. Sango would not fail.

She had failed many times already.

888888888888

He saw the demon grab for her, curling hands over her throat.

He should not be allowed to touch her. She was his.

He saw the demon whisper to her, bending mouth to ear.

He should not be allowed to speak to her. She was his.

He saw the demon take her.

He followed after. She was _his._

888888888888

Rin followed the mud back home, alone in the night- unafraid, for she was as dead as dead, and senseless to pain. Her bare mud-feet nicked and cracked along rocks in the mossy path; she tripped sometimes, throwing out a hand to catch herself. She would gaze at the wounds she had made on her palms, and it reminded of wolves.

888888888888

Naraku. The name was a coil of refuse, a coil of black, a coil of dirt.

Kagome could feel the cold clutch of his hands all over her, as the trees flew past them, drawn endlessly backward like a string had been cut. They leapt from tree to tree to tree, sometimes soaring, sometimes never hitting the ground at all. She could not keep her eyes open -they were going so fast, _so fast_- and out of fear kept an iron grip on the hand over her throat.

Terror.

When she did open her eyes all she could see was hair, his hair and hers, whipping past and coiling together. His hair was long as long as long.

"Ka-go-me," he said, halting between syllables; she always hated how he pronounced her name.

She would close her eyes again; she thought of hair that could catch the rays of the moon, hair that at sunset or sunrise would catch the light and glow red or bronze, for it was silver and a mirror, and gave back everything it took.

That was the hair of two loves of hers; one who wore red and was dead, _oh, dead,_ and the love for him warm in her heart and pain and friendly; another all beauty and power and quiet passion, a love and a need that tore her in and out, a man that stayed, that loved and wanted when she did not even remember him.

She remembered now. She remembered a demon leaning over her, Rin's small dead form in the grass beside and open and akimbo, and her in pain and wishing to be dead.

_There was a dark man with crimson eyes, and a voice as deep as providence, deep as longing. _(His voice ran through her, she remembered.)_ He closed his arms about her broken body, his long twisted hair falling upon her face _(she could still feel that hair, that cool slip of hair, on her face and felt it now, eyes closed, racing)_, curtaining the world from her eyes. She could not breathe, nor speak; she could only stare into his eyes, which were the colour of the blood pooled about her. _(And she had bled and bled and bled, and so had Rin.)

"_Ka-go-me. Poor little miko. Broken and in pain," he traced icy fingers over her gash upon her chest, causing her to whimper hoarsely in anguish _(he had touched her breasts, too, then)_. "You will be bound ever closer to me," his face came close to hers, and his cool palm pressed down over her forehead and eyes _(his hand had been the heaviest hand she had ever felt)_. "You will be mine, and you will forget..."_

He had taken her memories away; he had perhaps given them back, for now, only to secret them again.

He wanted her to be his. She belonged to no one- _except for silver hair and golden eyes and swords and armour- _and the man who dared claim her now had foul hands on her throat and hot triumph-laughs in her ear and nose in her hair. She hated no one more.

But for now there was the fear, singing high in her throat, refusing her even a scream.

888888888888

Sango stopped, Miroku listened.

A crack, distant, like a tree branch falling.

Sango ran. She ran for a friend-sister caught in the arms of the man who had killed her family and soiled her brother; she ran to keep from crying and burying herself under the ground.

The fox had his little hands around her neck, and where their skin met it was sweat-slick; Kirara ran alongside, the trees too thick to soar through.

They did not see the wolves until the prince of them, golden-skinned and blue eyes bright, charged like dust in front of them (trees cracking) and stopped them in their chase, for only a second; they ran on. Sango never had hated him; she hated him now.

He was too late, too late to save Kagome.

"I haven't seen you in a while," Kouga said, voice clear while theirs panted, while he ran easily alongside.

His questions were short, but they told him the truth; it did no good to lie to a wolf, all teeth and sense of smell. Sango remembered hunting them with her father, and the hunt had been hard and tiring and good. She bit her tongue to remember pain.

His eyes widened and narrowed at the appropriate parts; he did not protest at Kagome as a bride, his jaw firm. He nodded once at her being stolen away, curt and a parting, before rushing ahead like the wind, and it was as though he had never been there.

888888888888

He could see them, dark shapes a little ways ahead; he could smell his bride's fear, high and acidic. He could smell the one who had taken her, and he was all pieces and rot and old longing.

He did not tire. He would not. Not when the memory of _her, _of the woman-he-did-not-love, drew him onward like a force. She made him _want,_ and he had not tasted every last inch of her yet.

Her small hands, her mouth, her dark hair, her eyes; human skin that would age and decay off bones at death. All of it his, all. _All. _

He would catch the snake that had taken what was his, and he would pull out the intestinal coil out from his belly like thread and watch him fall apart.

He would crush his skull -along with his meager, scheming brains- underfoot.

He would tear out the tongue that had ever spoken to Kagome.

But they were gone, not on the distance, scent disappeared with setting sun and night; and his anger was so great, so sudden and so pulsing in his veins that his eyes bled red.

No one stole what was his away. _No one._

888888888888

A palace, all sliding doors and ornament, and corpses and mud and rot and darkness.

Silence.

The monster drew her inside.

Kagome felt the wooden slats of the floor under her shoulder as she was lowered there; she rolled over onto her back, dark bruises over her throat where Naraku still held her fast. A long coil of his hair pooled on her collarbone, and it smelled sickly-sweet. She gagged.

"You are mine, Ka-go-me," the demon said, and when she tried to turn her face away he grabbed it, and held her fast. "I fought long and hard for you."

"You wanted _Kikyou," _she spat, surprised at the hoarseness and the bitterness in her voice. She still had hate, had fire, had ire in her; she was not empty nor senseless. She remembered everything; she remembered it all through the fear. "You wanted _Kikyou!"_

"Onigumo wanted her," he said, voice deep and dark and smooth. "Onigumo wanted her, but I am not Onigumo."

Dread filled her slowly, starting from her throat under his hand. If it had been her he had wanted, all along, through all the fights and the attempts on her life (and the _success_ in the attempts), she would have sacrificed herself to him. So many had died for his disgusting want; so many had rotted for it. She could have saved them, all?

She could have saved pretty little Rin?

Kikyou?

Sango's family?

Inu Yasha?

She _hated_ him. She hated him so much she could not breathe_._

Did he want her as a younger girl, colt-like legs running, sunburnt nose under eyes full of hate?

Did he want her when she smiled? When she wept? When she screamed?

Did her want her when she shot him to pieces?

His hand on her throat stroked lower, over the scar on her chest one of his incarnations had given her; it parted her kimono (the most beautiful thing she had ever worn) to slink inside, trailing hidden over her breasts. It stopped on the slash-and-burn scar on her hip, of the Shikon no Tama cut from herself by a boy now dead.

At the rough touch of aristocratic fingers on the spot, she began to fight.

He growled, low, at her feet hitting hard at his ribs, but that only opened her kimono further; she scratched at his face as he bent it closer, ever closer, red eyes (all anger and lust and triumph) over hers.

When her fists hit him, when her nails scratched him -and broke- he only moaned, letting his own clothes part from his shoulders, the baboon pelt falling white behind him.

His hair coiled over her chest, now bared to his eyes; her face was red from exertion and anger and shame and she wanted him _off_, she wanted him _dead,_ she wanted his hands to burn off but her power would not come no matter how much she forced.

He bit her collarbone; she kicked him in the belly, but it only made his clothed hips thrust forward, jerking involuntarily; another moan.

She crawled back, crawled away, away from the hair and the eyes and the enemy and she was screaming and scratching and he was smiling and he followed her across and murmured to her and wrapped arms around her and she cursed the fact that she was small.

She bucked and kicked and writhed like a snake, trying to escape, _desperate _to. His hand pulled at her and tore her clothes and grabbed her hair, and her head banged hard against the floor and she was dazed.

"I have fought long and hard," he ground out, breath hot, and before she could scream again he settled his clammy weight over her, his hair rolling off his shoulders and onto her, and she bit her lip, so scared, so scared, so scared scared scared _scared_-

"Naraku," came a dead voice. Kohaku, _oh_,_ Kohaku. _

Naraku slowly lifted himself from her, pulling clothes back onto his shoulders, the pelt over it.

"We have lost Rin," the boy said.

Naraku stood, all grace and frustration; he settled a heavy eye on her, and she pulled her kimono over herself and glared.

"She will find her way," said Naraku, and moved towards a screen door. "She will."

When the door slid shut on him and his eyes, boy behind him, Kagome began to shake.


	17. We Are the Same

**Thanks for the support you guuuuyyyssss!!!**

**Disclaimer:**__Inu Yasha is not mine.

**Warning:** It's getting a little mature, especially near the end. There will be no "doing of the do" but it will be close... Abuse too. But that will end soon!

**Chapter 17:** We Are The Same

Kagome did not know if it were night or day; all her time was spent in that dank, dark room that smelled of rotted leaves, dust and incense, and an overwhelming stench of undulation and decay that was Naraku.

She could still feel him on her skin; she could still smell him, coiling in the back of her throat, heady and cursed and shunned. She felt like she could never get the smell out, never, and it would become part of her.

He had not visited her since he lay over her as heavy as earth; but there was a promise there, a vow that he would come again, to open his clothes and hers, and press her into the floor beneath them, his breath hot on her throat-

She squeezed her eyes shut, angry at her thoughts and at her fear.

Wasn't _she_ fearsome? Didn't her name carry weight? Hadn't she fought tooth and nail and had lost so many? Why did she cower when she could kick and bite?

Some part of her, some small part deep inside that had been wounded and scarred over and wounded again- the part that told her she could do anything, could save anyone, redeem anyone- told her that _maybe, maybe he would change, maybe he would repent, maybe maybe maybe._

But another, larger part wanted him to bleed, wanted him to die, wanted him to rot like Inu Yasha and Kikyou and the hundreds upon hundreds of villagers and her hopes. He had ripped though them and the ragged edges have long since decayed.

And he _wanted _her. She knew, and he knew, that if it would have saved anyone, she would have gone to him willingly.

_(Though if she had, she would never had known silver hair and golden eyes and that burn of want and need with a taiyoukai of the west.)_

He knew she would have come, but he had not taken her. He wanted to take everything away from her first, leave her raw and bared to the bone; to pick up the pieces only to break them into smaller bits. She _hated_ him, and that would not change; her hatred of him was too deep-rooted, to deep a part of what _Kagome_ was. She had built her life around this hate, had built friendships and loves around it. He could not breach the walls; she would not allow him to.

He could skulk around her heart, coil his tentacles around it; but her heart was already filled, to the brim -like a cup- with Sesshoumaru, and shaded with Inu Yasha. Naraku could not force his way in, could not spill that cup- and _would not_, as long as she lived. He would not find love in her, and she would not give it. Didn't he know she didn't _belong _to him?

He wanted her. Did he not understand that that venom-laced declaration would never sway her?

She wanted to laugh in his face, next time he leaned over her to exercise his want over her body.

She would get out of here, she would she would.

She would get out of here- she would, _she would_.

888888888888

She had slept for a long time, this Kagome. Kohaku had seen her sleeping through the paper screens, and felt nothing.

888888888888

Kagome had not been put in chains. She looked at her bare wrists, bruised with stranger's fingertips, felt the strain in her travel-sculpted arms as she lifted them to the dim light that slotted through the low window. No chains.

Though unchained, Kagome did not attempt escape. The hallway beyond her room was empty, so empty it yawned, threatening to swallow. She wondered what would happen when -not _if, when-_ she walked past the screen door and down that hall, attempting escape. Would she be swallowed? Would she be grabbed?

She felt like she could almost risk it; she felt like she could almost pass through that screen and out into the woods and hills beyond, towards where a silver demon surely waited for her.

She did not let helplessness take her, nor chip away at the little ball of resolve she kept inside. She had been helpless for too long- at first stuck mire-deep in guilt and grief, at the next trapped in a state where she did not even remember her own name.

_You remembered your love and your want, _she told herself. _You remembered Sesshoumaru._

She paused in her thought.

_You didn't remember his name. _

That made her cold. The theft of her memories had made her leave him, had made her leave the place where Rin had ended, and all that peaceful time with her.

She remembered that span of time between Inu Yasha's death and before Rin's as a happier time, though she could remember grief, and it made the happiness a shade bittersweet.

Now, unclouded by grief (though still missing him, still missing Inu Yasha- but that wound had scabbed over and was beginning to scar) and remembering all of herself, she could look back on that time with a clear inner eye.

She had smiled at Sesshoumaru. He had not looked away.

The thought made her ache.

When had she started needing him? When had he walked so deep inside of her that she could not remember herself without his steps?

She had left him; she had gone to a village, she had moved on and had endured through namelessness and flashes of memory full of pain.

But she had remembered him. She had remembered the idea of him at least, through everything else.

Young Kagome had died with Inu Yasha. Sad Kagome had endured through grief. The Kagome of now remembered, and considered, and though retained her old self she had grown.

She had been tempered in the fires of incident. She had endured.

Sesshoumaru had protected her, had revived her.

He had swallowed her whole.

And Rin, oh, Rin, she had died and she had been torn apart-

No.

_Oh no._

_What had beckoned her from the woods, covered in mud?_

Someone slid the door open, and she was up in a flash and tensing, ready for flight or fight- but it was Kohaku. She let the arches of her feet, which had bent up to prepare for running, flatten on the floor.

"He's going to come soon," Kohaku said, and his voice was low and soft and dead. She didn't know why _he_ wanted her, now- stinking of days without bathing, dark hair slick, skin sticky with fear-laced sweat. She furrowed her brows and tugged her kimono closer around her.

As though reading her mind, Kohaku produced a cloth and a basin of water from behind the screen door. Kagome took both with a murmur of thanks.

Kohaku stared at her. Kagome stared back.

"Yes?" she ventured. Her voice shook.

"We are the same," Kohaku said.

"What?"

"We are the same. We forgot everything. We're empty now. We are the same."

"I'm not empty!" she spat, but he was already gone. Why would he warn her of Naraku's coming if he was empty?

She quickly and eagerly grabbed the basin and cleaned herself, dunking her head into the water to clean some of the grime at least. She wrung out her hair, dabbed herself dry, and barely had enough time to shrug into her underclothes and kimono before she heard the tell-tale slide of feet outside the door.

Naraku's hand crept like a spider, pale and narrow-boned through the sliding paper door, and she could feel all of her stretch taut, like the bow she wished she had.

"Ka-go-me," he intoned, swallowing every syllable. She let her face descend into a scowl, and raised her chin to look at him; she wouldn't hide her eyes, though her body shook in fear.

She waited until he reached towards her before she curved around him and ran. His hand caught her wrist and he slammed her into the wall.

She cried out and spat on him.

His face remained impassive, flat. '"I have been generous."

She would not bestow her voice on him. She would not let him hear her voice.

The oily spill of his hair coiled around her as he pulled her from the wall, and he was too strong for her to stop him. She tried to find similarity in his hair; she tried to find silver in it, and couldn't.

His hair was glossy and slick. The smell of him coiled in her throat and made her gag.

"Get off me," she said, when he trailed fingers under her kimono again, and every greasy touch made her shake with rage. If she could get angrier she could purify him to pieces.

"No," he answered, lowering an open mouth to her throat, training lips across her collarbone. His hair was long, as curly as a chain, and she imagined tearing it out.

She raised a hand, and the glow flowed through her fingers, to touch his skin with burns. Naraku made a sound, which she mistook for pain; she did it again, though it did not come as easy this time. Confusion bloomed in her mind; why were her powers so weak as to not force him away?

She could see his skin burning, regenerating, melting away again under her touch. She bared his ribs to the air, saw the bone, before the skin and muscle covered them from her sight. She heard a sound that confused her more: a rippling, bobbing sound that she did not recognize as laughter at first.

It started out low, deep in the chest she was burning. It grew as her powers flared and died, as the wounds she was making healed.

It crested when she gazed at his hungry face in horror, the unkind laugh spreading out from his mouth and rumbling between them.

He laughed as he kissed up her throat, across her jaw. He laughed when he parted her kimono, his, pressing his bare chest to hers, kissing down to each breast. She started screaming as he laughed.

There was a thundering boom, a loud crash that made him go still. He pulled away, the coils of his hair slipping away from her skin. He pulled his hakama on, his kimono, his obi.

For there then came a cry from someone somewhere, it did not matter who; and it stopped Naraku, making his face spilt in a horrible smile: "Sesshoumaru has come! Sesshoumaru has arrived!"


	18. Little Girl

**Sorry for the hUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGe wait. Working nearly full time, exams, and writer's block have made me literally incapable of writing. And then school started and took over my life to the brim. Here goes nothing!**

**Disclaimer:**__**I own naught. **

**Chapter 18:** Little Girl

Kagome was only human, she knew; she was not a shield, nor a god, nor immune to pain or suffering- but her insides swam with smug delight, with euphoria, with relief so potent it made her body melt against the floor. Heady power swam through her; her demon lover had come, and would tear those who had touched her limb from limb.

_Sesshoumaru_.

When her mind caught up with her legs, she suddenly knew she was running, feet bare and slapping against the floor, clothes half on and off. A side of Naraku's house erupted suddenly in flame and light, falling away into nothing and into embers. Kagome screamed a little, but it was a triumphant scream. The sounds of fevered war bled in past the cracking flame.

Out of the embers and seemingly there by accident, Rin emerged and stumbled across the fire-glowing hall.

"Rin," she whispered, the whisper torn from her without a thought. She did not trust the small girl, with her muddy arms and legs; but she loved her, loved her still.

When the little girl's heavy eyes settled on her frame, she knew that they were the emptiest eyes she had ever seen.

The fire bloomed behind her, cackling over the smooth wooden floor, eating and scorching as it went. Kagome gave the dead girl a long look as Rin made her way across the hall, closing a door behind her, smearing mud as she went.

There was mud all over her face, some dried clumps, some wet from some unseen rain; Kagome's tired heart felt sad for her, but a roar of anger split the silence, and the wooden painted walls and paper doors and floor collapsed inward, punched in by an unseen hand. Kagome was pushed up and sideways, and she cried out when her side hit a flaming wall. She shrugged out of her flaming clothes and stood only in a singed and blackened yukata, her hair a cloud around her head. She coughed and wiped a charcoal hand across her cheek.

She heard a child's cough, a child's agonized scream. _Rin,_ she thought as she charged without thought to where she had heard the noise. _Rin, Rin, Rin..._

She pushed past a tipped door, broken and hanging, its paper all aflame; she ran down a hallway and turned into the fire again.

She could not hear coughing anymore. She could not hear the little gasping breaths she knew came from children's lungs. The smoke filled the hallway, and she tried to remember how she was taught to stay low to the ground- but if she were low, how could she follow the smears of mud on the walls, the footsteps on the floor, and quickly so?

She caught up to a last door, a door to the outside, but there was another; a sliding door to the right whose designs have been caked in mud and dust and time, holes and fire eating it through. The mud was clinging to the frame.

Kagome, coughing, pushed her way through. "Rin!" she screamed. _"Rin!"_

_Nothing._

_Stairs leading down, down, down. A glow of fire down in the dark. _

She tripped, once. She coughed twice as her bare feet clapped on the hot wood of the stairs. It was like stepping into the heart of the earth, made more so by the smeared mud on the walls along the way.

The poor, poor, once-dead little girl was in a heap on the ground. Before Kagome could reach her something above- a jar, a shelf- collapsed and knocked her to the ground and senseless.

888888888888

Kouga's speedy legs flew underneath him like fire to Naraku's castle. He watched in howling triumph as a side of the house fell in, collapsing under hot timbers and blackened earth, burning paper doors. A smile flashed on his face as he flew back, dodging a lashing demon horde that flew from Naraku's heart like blood from a wound.

Wolves, in human form and also in fur and snarling mouth, curled around his feet and legs and sides, berthing him like water 'round a stone.

He found, after a moment, that he was laughing, and threw back his head, letting his black hair whip back as another laughing howl berthed his mouth and filled the air, and listening hearts with fear.

888888888888

Sango saw Kohaku in a flash of flame and screamed his name, but he turned from her and was silent. She did not see him again until Kouga tore out Kagura's throat with his teeth, a shower of blood misting the distance between them both.

To protect her, Miroku swung his heavy staff onto the head on a demon, and distracted her for a moment from the sight of her brother's face; when she turned to look at the boy again fire had separated them, surging in between the distance, and it was all Sango could do not to chase him down and find him and shake him until he knew who he was.

"Sango," Miroku said, casting a fearful look to the bushes, where Shippou hid, and was relieved to find that he was still safe. "Sango!"

Her unfocused eyes flashed to him and held.

"Your brother will be fine. Naraku wants him for his shard. We must think of Kagome. She needs us, now."

Sango instead thought of her father and her brother, and how they used to hunt and laugh and love, and of the bright times in which she was learning her trade and becoming good at it. She remembered the feel of her first kill, and the devastation of Kohaku's. She had wanted so badly to run with him in the night, two hunters out to kill before they were killed. She had wanted to be sleek with him, two silent killers whom none could separate.

Sango thought of Kagome finally- sweet, bright Kagome, who had died and had been revived. She had been the first girl to ever call her beautiful, and give her a clear comb made of water (though Kagome had laughed and said it was just plastic). She had bathed with her and they had become sisters, and even though Sango had known that she would have eventually returned down her well and could have never done so, she had imagined that she would stay, and they would grow old and have children at the same time -Sango a son, and Kagome a daughter- and those children would have loved each other, and their families would have joined.

All those dreams were gone if Sango did not move. Miroku was dragging her to her feet, away from the onslaught of her enemies and her allies- both Lords, each seeking out revenge in the rubble and fire.

Sango was not one to let revenge slip past her, and she rose to join in the fight.

888888888888

Kagome woke to the feel of a hand stroking over her head, back to her cheeks and forehead. The touch was clinging, like the fingers held mud.

Her eyes fluttered and she looked into the eyes of Rin, which were flatter than the charcoal around them, when before they had a sparkle and a fire. Kagome had wanted to be her mother, once. That time was dead, because _she_ was.

"He's coming soon," said Rin, stopping her ministrations but leaving her hands on her head. "He's coming. Please wait for him."

It scared her that Rin did not say who was coming.

Kagome struggled to her feet, ignoring Rin's placating words. She swayed on her feet unhindered, and looked down to see Rin stroking the air where her hair and head used to be. She felt the presence of the shard next to her heart, and it was black and horrible and as empty as a chip of the sky.

The fire had slowed, but it kept them there; the small subfloor room was hot and close, and mud was along the walls and stairs, leading upward to cooler air. A heavy pillar had fallen, stopping their access to the war above. She could hear Sango's warrior cry and took heart.

Kagome looked around the room, seeking out a tool to move the debris, or at least help her climb out of it; she coughed as the smoke filled her face and watered her eyes. She wiped the tears from her soot-blackened face and, by chance, looked into a shadowy corner of the room.

There was Inu Yasha's sword.


	19. Like a Star

**Sorry again for the little wait. I am a very busy person!**

**Chapter 19: Like a Star**

In the time before the battle started, Sesshoumaru stood and waited, his body radiating challenge. It was not long before the lord of the house- the decrepit, moldering house- pushed back the screen to the garden and the woods and looked out, a face blacked out by miasma and night.

"_Sesshoumaru,"_ the darkness told him. "_I have your bride, Sesshoumaru. I have tasted her, my lord. Her skin is sweet. Her blood will be sweeter."_

The darkness took form, sliding out as a man in a rich garb, the clothes only hiding the slimy creature beneath. Sesshoumaru did not look to either side; he knew that this creature's minions stood there, and watched him as surely as he watched them, though their challenge of him was too minor to take.

But him.

His dark coils of hair and his stolen face, and he smelled of Kagome- of her skin and fear- and that made his eyes bleed red.

"_Stay calm, my lord_," the creature named Naraku told him. "I have all of the things you love most in the world."

_Love? _ He did not love. But he remembered the shape of her mouth, and her laugh, and how her eyes shone when she looked on him, and how much he wanted to get her with child and take her home, and keep her from the world until it forgot about her, and she about it.

"If you leave I will not harm her," Naraku said. "If you give her to me-"

Sesshoumaru snatched his sword from his sheath, an interruption across his foe's flowered speech. In a quiet moment Naraku seemed to sigh, and laugh.

"As you wish," he said, and the house behind him burst into flame.

Sesshoumaru growled low and rushed forward, slashing at his enemy with controlled strength; but he had switched his body, and a wooden puppet cracked in half instead.

Kagura nestled herself under his sword. "Naraku is in the forest, he is in the trees," she said, breathless because Sesshoumaru's sword stopped a little way from her skin. Her breath brought her throat closer and closer to his blade, so he drew it back. At her questioning look, he shook his head. He did not need to tell her that her death, like Rin's first death, lay in the jaws of wolves.

"He will not kill her!" Kagura cried after him, as a surge of wolves surrounded her and made her flourish a weapon of wind. "He needs her! He is using fire to keep her in the house or chase her from it-"

Her death was as quick and as blood-stained as she had been.

888888888888

The sword's scabbard was scuffed, the red tie faded; yet she grabbed at it like it would save her against the world. It did not change at her touch; it could not- yet she believed that while she held it, it could remain between the world and her, protecting her as much as its wielder had.

Kagome tried to climb through the rubble with it in her hands; the wood was hot and sizzled under her palm, and she cried out and fell back; but she couldn't stop, wouldn't ever- and waded through the embers and the fire. When she had cleared a way she looked back to call for Rin, but she was gone.

"Rin!" she half-screamed, half-sobbed. There was no answer, and the smoke choked her from calling for her again.

Coughing, she emerged into the hallway above, half-open to the night by the evidence of a destructive hand. There was a splash of blood, like something had limped down the hall; in the corner, there was a massive carcass of a wolf. Kagome stared at it a moment before her heart remembered Kouga.

She crawled out into the night.

The firelight stained the sky, and for a moment Kagome could not hear anything.

There was a blaze of speed, a crash, and a howl; Kouga passed by with a blood-stained face.

Kagome called out to him, but he was to far away from her, both in mind, and, due to his speed, distance. She jumped to her feet and ran after him, and into the fray, her eyes stuck on the glow in his legs.

Howling all around her, wolves and wolf-men surging around her legs. One whipped by her so fast she fell, a moment on the ground. For a moment she saw stars. She closed her eyes and hugged the sword to herself, and wished for the millionth time that Inu Yasha would be there when she opened them.

Then she heard a woman's warrior cry, over the low growl of wolves and the hiss of fire, and looked up and saw Sango; she surged to her feet, towards the hope her friend offered, as the building burned behind her and threw its orange glow to the black of the sky.

Another boom, a silver flash in the black, a moment where she saw her demon lover in the distance and fighting before the woods swallowed his sight.

"Sesshoumaru!" she screamed, scrambling to her feet and running towards him."Rin's in the fire! Rin's alive! Sesshoumaru!"

But he was distant from her, like a star, and he could not hear her. She turned back to the building, panicking, wanting to find water to put the fire out-

Kohaku found her first. "I am sorry," he said, and crouched as though to chase, the bone of his weapon sharp against the grass.

"Don't, Kohaku!"

"I have to," he said, his eyes blank. "I need to see the red of your blood. He wants me to hurt you, to weaken you-"

Kagome screamed and ran, but her legs were slow and her ankle pained her, so she stumbled and the boy pushed her into the ground, weapon at her throat. He began to crush it.

"Go to sleep," the boy said.

Sango burst in the clearing, into scene with war in her eyes, which softened at the sight of her brother, and hardened at the sight of his deed.

"_Kagome!" _ she screeched, and out flew her weapon, all gleaming white bone. Kohaku grunted when the weapon struck his side, and spat a spray of blood onto Kagome's stunned face. Then he crumpled off of her, and she could breathe again.

Her eyes focused on the pale face of Kohaku for a moment, as he breathed and struggled a little on the grass. "Kill me," he told her, a gurgling joint of voice and blood. "I would have killed _you. It is your fault."_

Kagome reached forward with a hand like the hand of a god, and plucked the shard from the back of his open heart.

She looked up. up. up at the safety of her friend, and hoarsely cried out her name, rushing towards her (limping and useless), but Sango gave a long low moan and bent to her brother's side, whispering feverish apologies and spilling tears upon the earth.

Kagome took a step back, and another, before Sango's hunter gaze flew to her friend, and pinned her in her place. Kagome cast a look at the fire, and thought of Rin therein. The fire had calmed, a little, but the wood was still hot; a passing breath of wind could stir it into life again, and burn the forest down.

"Sorry, Sango," she said, watching as a tear fell down her friend's pale, dirty face. Miroku leaned into the scene, crying her name with surprise and clutching a bleeding wound on his side.

"I have to save him," she told her friends. "I love him."

And she backed away, three steps away, and they reached out their hands towards her; Kagome cast a look at Kohaku, and she was the only one to see him die.

No matter how hard she tried, the shard she had taken from Kohaku's heart would not purify in her hand.


	20. White Hair

**Chapter 20: White Hair**

Kouga's quick feet tore up the turf, searching the dark to make the last vengeance, the last blood offering to his fallen comrades and wolf-kin-kind. His black hair whipped against the branches as he leapt into the trees, his shards glowing twice in his legs, the moon in his eyes.

His dark wolf-kin surged around the base of the trees, snuffling and seeking out the creature, any creature-

White clothes, white hair, white mirror.

Kouga drew close to Kanna, and caught himself in the mirror; his noble heart found no purchase in the vengeance that surrounded it like sickness and plague. He fell to his knees and then his side, and barely felt it when the shards were taken from his legs, leaving them as useless as a child's, as flower stems. Kouga felt his soul being bled out like poison from a wound.

Kanna's eyes and mirror watched, and gave back what it took.

888888888888

Sesshoumaru surged into the trees, dark-shod feet as quick as fish, touching off one branch and crossing through a whisper of leaves, passing over his features like petals over a still pond.

Silence, listening. Listening with hand and feet and heart. Poised, waiting to strike.

His sword snaked out into the gloom, reflecting light of the moon into the darkest corners of a night-framed pine. A branch swayed underneath his weight as he tapped off of its surface, letting its give-and-fragility throw him into the air once again.

His eyes sought out the half-man in the gloom.

A whisper, like hair sliding over a shoulder with wind, and hitting the night. Coils of dark hair against bright bloody clothes. A flash of his laugh-and-smile, and then silence.

Strands of his white hair swung from his shoulder and split the black in two. For a moment he watched his hair with red eyes, watching it still. Its sudden dancing, its sudden swinging, was the only thing that told him the blow had been coming- there had been no smell, no sight, no sound-

Sesshoumaru leapt away from the attack that tore the tree from its roots, his perch shaken as he touched feet from one branch to another, barely finding time to seek out purchase before another blow struck another tree and boiled it with miasma. Sesshoumaru gave an annoyed grunt and let his sword swing in his hand, sending out a bolt of light that shone like a flame in the dark.

It illuminated and struck, and the wooden puppet cracked in half.

There came a laugh, a sick cackle that chilled all listening hearts but Sesshoumaru's, whose heart no longer felt fear. "Lord of the West," it asked him, "Where is your bride?"

Sesshoumaru's sword struck nothing and sent light out into the shadows, echoing his growl of rage.

"_Where could your bride be but with me, Lord Sesshoumaru?"_

888888888888

Kagome listened, and listened hard, her sweaty hand clenched over the black shard and the sword tucked under her arm. Her make-shift hiding place hid her body but not her panting, loud breaths, which sucked at the air and betrayed her shining fear.

She heard a clang and a crash of sword and armour, and turned her head to the sound; she listened hard and jolted when a bolt of light crashed overhead, knocking trees to the rumbling earth and leaves onto her head. She brushed them off and the sweat off her face and stood.

In the silence she made her decision and ran out into the clearing, seeking out with laboured breath and human eyes her saviour, her heart anxious and her thoughts on Rin.

_Hold on_, she thought. _Let the fire pass you over, let the fire die down, let the fire succumb, let the fire-_

Something white gleamed at her from a copse of trees, white clothes and white mirror.

Kagome tried to look away, but her soul was pinned like a butterfly, and the connection drew her in like a fishing line, in like a net.

"No," she spat and closed her eyes, willing her feet to still, but the mirror burned behind her eyelids and called her into herself.

A dark shape, a hole within. A dark pinhole. A black seed.

Naraku was within her still, inside her memory at the place he had torn remembrance from her. Suddenly she knew what the poison was, the black spot on her wide, white soul; to save her from dying from the wounds he had ordered, Naraku had given her a hair's breadth of himself. He had given a seed to the soil of her heart, to what end she did not know. The seed pulsed with her breathing, growing bit by aching bit, and Kagome suddenly knew that Naraku would never die, because he lived in her now.

Kanna let the power of the mirror fade. "You now know how to destroy him."

"Why tell me?" Kagome cried, angrily clenching the shard in the lifeline of her hand. "Why tell me I will become as corrupt as _he is _if I live any longer? _Why?"_

"I am a mirror," Kanna said. "I take and I give."

She held out her hand and dropped two faintly pink shards into Kagome's hands, which did not purify but grew steadily darker.

"No," Kagome moaned. "Kouga, no!"

"A mirror does not purify," said Kanna as she backed away into the trees. "A mirror does not correct faults."

"How can I purify them?" Kagome spat at herself. "How do I save Rin?"

Kagome looked up with panicked eyes and saw Naraku.

888888888888

Mud, mud smeared on his white hakama, clinging in his white hair. With his only hand he parted the branches and found the smoking, tossed wreckage of Naraku's castle, where here-and-there a fire still burned low.

He could smell her. He could smell his bride and her journey though the decimated paths inside this house, where she caught her hand and bled, leaving cloth behind.

Why was there so much mud, still wet in the baking heat of the fire? Sesshoumaru stilled his movements and listened, calmly, to the drag, drag, limp of feet from creaking floorboard to muddy step.

Rin limped into the light, head lolling on her shoulders, brown eyes betraying emptiness and pain.

"Father," she said, and something broke in him.


	21. Black Hair

**Life has been really busy around these parts. I'm extremely sorry for the long wait; I have no good excuse to save me from your derision, except that I had this mostly written and then my computer crashed and I lost everything. I really have no good excuse! So please enjoy, and thank you for your continued reading and support.**

**Love, Kermit**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing! Nothing! Inu Yasha belongs to its respective owners, and this is just an impassioned retelling of events. **

**Chapter 21**

**Black Hair**

Miroku watched Sango rock her brother back and forth, her keening wails cutting into him, making him clench the few shards they had to his chest, away from her gaze. Shippou clung to Kirara and he shot both demons a gaze, which Kirara silently understood to be a request for their flight from this place. This battle was getting too bloody on both sides; now that the battle had died down for a moment, Miroku could see that he was tiring, that they all were stepping with limps or lying dead. Shippou gave a long look behind him after he let himself be convinced to leave.

Miroku edged away from Sango, worried that she would seek out the shards they had, Kagome's pink, pink shards which they had claimed from her dead body long ago, worried about their quest still even in their despair.

Miroku wondered, as he stared at Sango, if is love for her would turn to poison if she struck him down and took the shards to revive her brother again. Could he strike her back? Would he? He loved her too much, and the thought of this corruption, this jewel, these shards so close to her made him feel more keenly the wound in his side.

He knew he couldn't strike her, so he stepped away, leaving that scene to seek out Kagome and give her back the pieces of herself.

888888888888

"Where's Kouga?" she screamed, rising to her feet, eyes flashing in rage. Naraku's eyes raked over her frame, over her firm stance and clenched fists. His eyes passed over what Kagome assumed was the dirt, the blood, on her face, and reached out a hand, which she flinched away from, throwing up her fists like it could keep him away.

"What have you done with him? Where is he?" Kagome was horrified at the three shards in her hand, because each had belonged to or had been inside… inside…

She looked at him with sickness. "I killed Kohaku."

Naraku lifted his eyes to hers and said, "You did what was needed. Give those shards to me."

"I can't, I won't," she said, and remembered what the white-mirror-girl had shown her. Naraku was inside of her, a little pinpoint of dark that was growing. He had ensured his immortality. She could not kill him without killing herself, and she could not purify the shards unless he was dead and the darkness out of her.

She could do nothing.

Her hands were stiller than when she was helpless with grief. She needed- no, she wanted- to find the way, to seek the way past her helplessness. As she was thinking, eyes focused on nothing, turned inward inside her, Naraku had stepped closer, closer.

When she looked outward again, she could only look up at his face, at the small, triumphant smile that had begun to seed upon it. The coils of his hair whipped upwards in the wind, struck her cheek at the same time she was struck with horror.

He took her into his arms –not caring for the sword she clasped like a prayer against her breasts- laying his chin against her head, and his head was so heavy and his chin so sharp it hurt.

"You are perhaps wondering why I put that little darkness in you," he murmured, moving his cheek in her wispy, charred-ends hair, messy with running and hiding. "I know you know of its existence, Ka-go-me."

"Let go of me, or I'll-"

"You will not harm me, nor will I harm you. That little seed is growing, filling your heart, calling out to me. My child killed the little girl, then you, and I then saved you, and tore out your memory- you would have died, onna, if I had not interfered-"

"You ordered your child to kill me. I'm not stupid."

"It was to let you be born again. You needed to forget everything for a time. I can make you forget again, if I wanted to. But I do love your spark."

Kagome scoffed a little, stiffening as his hands trailed down to her hips and along her sides, trying with all her might not to shake. "I didn't have any 'spark' for a while. Because of _you."_

"Who gave you back your spark, I wonder? Who made you remember yourself? Who made you stronger? You were such a weak, springing girl, clinging girl, and then a weeping sorrowful, a pathetic mess. I killed you to save you from yourself."

"I became stronger. I lived through all of that and I'll live through this, Naraku, I swear I will."

"I am not going to kill you," he told her.

"I am going to kill _you."_

Naraku laughed, a sharp, unkind bark of a laugh. "Sesshoumaru-sama seems to have given you some of his frankness. However, you will not kill me. You will want me as I want you, and give me a child with which I can rule the world. But, enough. Come, girl, follow me…"

He began to pull her, and she looked down to see his bare feet pushing in the grass, could hear the crunch of something under his heel- a mouse or insect, arrowhead or stone. Kagome's eyes could not lift to his, because she knew she'd probably lose her nerve; but she did it, anyway, to show him that she wasn't afraid. His eyes, red, searched hers; she searched his for weakness, wondering when he'd glance away so she could run- and then something he had said struck in her, and she stopped searching his gaze and just stared.

Kagome's stomach dropped sickeningly to her knees. A child? He wanted to make this dark spot inside of her grow into a living being, harder to kill because it was a part of her, too? How sickening. She did not want to imagine the process of giving him a child; of him inside of her, laughing at her screams, of him at the door, watching as her body spilled forth a being to destroy the world she wanted so dearly to save.

To stall him as he pulled her onward: "What child? I don't have a child."

"You said yourself you were not stupid. I will get you with child, a child of my body and of yours, of my powers and of yours."

He stepped away from her, and parted his kimono; Kagome wanted to avert her eyes but a glance from him told her never to look away. He parted his kimono, and then his chest and belly; and inside was one of the demons that had killed Rin, had killed Inu Yasha. She had forgotten its name, but its cheek was pressed against Naraku's black ribcage, its strands of hair heavy with gore. It was sleeping.

Kagome shook with horror as she imagined this _creature_ inside of her like in Naraku, leaning against her ribcage and languishing there and waiting to be born from her body, ripping her from the inside out.

Kagome saw that Naraku's hands were busy pulling himself back together, so she turned and ran. She heard nothing behind her, but she could not lull herself into believing he was not following her. She was right; she was knocked over, and bowled head-over-heels into a copse of trees, the sharp stones stinging her; but then she felt a chest against her back, a breath in her hair.

"I will kill you," Kagome spat, as he wrapped his arms around her, his black hair blending with hers. "I will kill you, I _hate _you. Once I could have forgiven you, but that time is _gone._"

"I love you, girl, I love your skin and your spark. I love your hatred of me- I will turn it into love. I will always forgive your faults; and I will punish you for them, of course."

"You are sick."

"And you must learn that _you are helpless._ I _will _have you, and you _will_ have my child."

Kagome struck out behind her, and he loosened his grip with a hiss of pain; she kicked him and stood, watching him flinch a little and gaining no little pleasure from it. She kicked him again when he rose in anger to grab her; she punched him, knocked him with the fist that was closed over the shards, and their power and her force struck his face aside. He grabbed her upper arm and squeezed until she mewled in anger and agony. He pulled her face to his but she hit him with the side of the sword she held, and he fell to his knees.

"You are so strong, almost as strong as I am," he told her as he laughed past a trickle of blood. "I put that spark in you so that my child can grow, so that you may live after its birth, so you could _become_ ever more like me. You striking me would be as though I were striking myself."

Kagome felt a spark of triumph, watching him as he remained on his knees, looking at her, ready to spring at her if she ran.

She knew how to kill him.


	22. Back

**Chapter 22: Back**

"Father," the little muddy girl said. "Father, you are here."

"Rin," he called back, almost involuntarily. Rin rushed to him, as much as she could rush, and he could feel a sense of a small horror. "Mud…"

"You put Rin in it," she said. "You put Rin in the mud when she was still living."

"You are dead," he told her.

She said nothing, putting her hand into his. "Follow," she said, and pointed into the fire of the house.

"You are dead," he said again, but let his hand be pulled by her slight, slight strength, and he could almost pretend he could see flower-filled fields, and sun, forest, and bluer sky; no charred ground, no black castle, no mud, muddy girl, pulling him into the fire, the boiling flame.

"Follow," she repeated.

_Into the fire?_

"Follow," she said again.

_Into where the mud stuck the most?_

"Follow, follow, follow," she said, and he did, staring ahead at the darkness of the blackened, on-fire house. The night had fallen thick and fast around them, and all he could hear was the crackling of the fire and the shuffle-drag of his charge's feet.

"Follow me, father," she said, lolling her head back to look at him. And then it struck him: she had never called him father, ever, not even when she had been ill and needed him, not when she laughed or cried, or ran into fields. She had never assumed…

Sesshoumaru stopped, making little Rin stop as well, her eyes trained forward, her hand clutching his tight. He let go of her hand and watched it fall limp to her side, heavy with clots of mud, and wished he could clean her.

He suddenly recognized the blazing anger in his heart as grief.

"You are dead." He told her. "You never came back."

Rin said nothing, only moved deeper into the fire and he had to follow to where the colossal heat began to singe his hair, white eyelashes, the clothes on his back. He did not heed the fire, for the fire was not as important as her answer, as her gaze hitting his; _answer, _he wanted to order her. _Answer me._

But even when she was alive he could not demand too much of her; could not let her grow in his eyes, even when the kimono grew too short, her jaw fuller. _Do not change_, he knew his heart had quietly begged. She had seemed unchangeable, and therefore he grew fond.

But she had proven herself subject to change, and had died, and he had put her in the mud; and here she was again.

"Stay," he said sternly, when she wandered close to the fire.

She did not listen, even when the flame licked at her clothes and dried the mud.

"It's too hot," she wailed, and he still could not see her face. "Too hot, hell, hell!"

Sesshoumaru snatched her to himself, to his white, white clothes, when a lick of fire spread on her skin. At his touch it did not diminish but attached to him like a sick man's bile, spreading over his venom, his claws, catching the tossed edge of his white, pure hair.

He heard a small cry when the fire hit his skin, but did not recognize it as his own grunt of pain.

888888888888

Miroku limped past a host of wolves, hoping that his blood didn't tempt them, even though he knew that they were tentative allies of his through the connection of Kouga. He clutched the remains of the jewel close to himself, wishing Sango would stand beside him, all warrior-woman and strong.

His side was bleeding, and his hand with his curse was paining him. It terrified him to think of his charms breaking, and the wind exploding and destroying all trace of him, as well as sucking the piece of the jewel into himself.

He had always planned, if the way became too rough and the jewel became completed, to move his hand to destroy the jewel in the abyss in his palm. But he knew, knew too well, that that could hurt him, morph him, or somehow give it into Naraku's hands. Perhaps, through this curse, Naraku could receive all Miroku himself absorbed, and Miroku did not want to try his luck in this circumstance.

So he clutched the jewel to his chest, and moved towards Naraku's house, where the fire burned high and hot and raised the sweat on his brow. The wolves grew in number, undulating around his feet and he wondered where Kouga was, hoping the wolves were not hungry and could not smell his blood too much.

The wolves' number grew, and he suddenly knew that the steps he took, measured and careful as they were, were being directed by the animals around him. He had no choice but to follow where they lead him, and wonder, and hope he wouldn't faint nor die from the pain every step gave him.

When he tried to step out of the river of wolves, a particularly large wolf would step into his path and yip, or snap at his heels, and he moved back into his place, cowed. He twisted his lip wryly. Obviously, he was needed wherever they were leading him.

He was moved into a clearing, wonderfully cool because of the stream running through it, and untainted by Naraku's miasma if only for now. The fire in the house was only a glow of red in the distance behind him, and weariness made him kneel next to the stream and cup water to his skin and face, and into his mouth to drink.

He stopped drinking when a curl of red blood bloomed in the water under his nose, and he looked to see Kouga, eyes burning like a wolf's in the darkness, leaning half in and out of the water as though he could not pull himself fully out of it. He was injured, and his eyes misty, his legs intact but shredded in places where the shards had been ripped from them.

Mirkou looked at Kouga's wounds, and at the shards in his hands, and furrowed his brow in thought.

888888888888

Kagome did not move, nor did she let the look of triumph hit her eyes. She looked down upon Naraku, where he knelt and watched her, and attempted to hide her ire. She needed to be cunning, somehow, even though she couldn't be-

-She was too furious, and she knew if she suddenly stopped acting angry he would be wary of her, maybe-

So she frowned at him, leaned against the tree and let her hate burn in her eyes while her mind worked furiously, furiously.

If she injured herself, would that hurt him? Yes, it would, she believed, and she could only try. This little seed of darkness inside her stopped up her powers, but she had not tried too hard to force them. What if she forced, would that push him out?

There was a huge, dark wealth of exhaustion hiding behind her adrenaline, and she knew if she tried, even a little, she would give all of her energy away and fall asleep, perhaps. So what to do, to rid herself of this little seed?

But what if, what if, she let it grow? Her mind balked for a second, telling her that she could not let herself be lost in Naraku. But, _but_, therein lay her victory. She needed to let it grow. She could feel the poison of it through her veins but it was also restoring her energy, giving her strength.

She looked down at Inu Yasha's sword and saw it pulse, perhaps in response to the demonic energy growing in her. It was as though he was there with her, holding out his hand from his death, and beckoning her forwards. To lay her hand on the hilt of his sword was like laying her hand in his.

She made her decision, and looked to Naraku when he stood, looking her over with satisfaction.

"We must go back," he told her, "Where your Sesshoumaru is seeking you, and let him see the dark in you. He will not be able to strike; but seeing you by my side will break him."

He leaned forwards to gather her to him, but she held out a hand, which collided with his chest. He threaded his fingers with hers and watched her anger with unfailing interest.

"You leave him alone," she spat at him, with all the hatred and urgency she possessed. She needed to delay him, to let the dark grow in her, and then be able to fight him. She clutched the shards to herself, and her sweat made them slick. "Leave him _alone_."

Naraku chuckled, said nothing, and pulled her closer to himself. She resisted, for a second, if only to test her own strength. She could tell by the tremble in his arm that she strained him, if only a little. Filled with a little jolt of fear, she did not let him see the little spark of victory in her, and let herself tumble towards him, getting a face full of the curls of his hair. She shivered at the smell of blood and waited for him to drag her towards his house.

"We will go back," he said, red eyes burning, "In time to see your lover die."

Within the cloud of his miasma, she screamed in rage.


End file.
